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HANNAH MORE 



IN S E V E N V O L U M E S. 



VOL. I V. 

PRACTICAL PIET Y.— O N THE LIFE AND 
WRITINGS OF ST. PAUL. 



NEW YORK. 
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 

FRANKLIN SQUARE 
18 55. 



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PREFACE. 



An eminent professor of our own time, modestly declared that he 
taught chemistry in order that he might learn it. The writer of 
the following pages might, with far more justice, offer a similar 
declaration, as an apology for so repeatedly treating on the impor- 
tant topics of religion and morals. 

Abashed by the equitable precept, 

Let those teach others who themselves excel — 

she is aware, how fairly she is putting it in the power of the reader, 
to ask, in the searching words of an eminent old prelate, " They 
that speak thus and advise thus, do they do thus ? " She can de- 
fend herself in no other way, than by adopting for a reply the 
words of the same venerable divine, which immediately follow. — 
" O that it were not too true. Yet although it be but little that is 
attained, the very aim is right, and something there is that is done 
by it. It is better to have such thoughts and desires, than altogether 
to give them up ; and the very desire, if it be serious and sincere, 
may so much change the habitude of the soul and life, that it is not 
to be despised." 

The world does not require so much to be informed as reminded. 
A remembrancer may be almost as useful as an instructor ; if his 
office be more humble, it is scarcely less necessary. The man 
whose employment it was, statedly to proclaim in the ear of Philip, 
REMEMBER THAT THOU ART MORTAL, had his plain admouition 
been allowed to make its due impression, might have produced a 
more salutary effect on the royal usurpei, than the impassioned 
orations of his immortal assailant — 

whose resistless eloquence 

Shook th' arsenal, and fulmined over Greece, 

To Macedon and Artaxerxes' throne. 

While the orator boldly strove to check the ambition, and arrest 
the injustice of the king, the simple herald barely reminded him, 
how short would be the reign of injustice, how inevitable and how 
near was the final period of ambition. Let it be remembered to the 
credit of the monarch, that while the thunders of the politician 
were intolerable, the monitor was of his own appointment. 

This slight sketch, for it pretends to no higher name, aims only 
at being plain and practical. Contending solely for those indispen- 
sable points, which, by involving present duty, involve future happi- 



VI PREFACE. 

ness, the writer has avoided, as far as Christian sincerity permits 
all controverted topics ; has shunned whatever might lead to dis- 
putation rather than to profit. 

We live in an age, when, as Mr. Pope observed of that in which 
he wrote, it is criminal to be moderate. Would it could not be 
said that religion has her parties as well as politics ! Those 
who endeavor to steer clear of all extremes in either, are in danger 
of being reprobated by both. It is rather a hardship for persons, 
who having considered it as a Christian duty to cultivate a spirit of 
moderation in thinking, and of candor in judging, that, when these 
dispositions are brought into action, they frequently incur a harsher 
censure, than the errors which it was their chief aim to avoid. 

Perhaps, therefore, to that human wisdom whose leading object 
is human applause, it might answer best to be exclusively attached 
to some one party. On the protection of that party at least, it 
might in that case reckon ; and it would then have the dislike of 
the opposite class alone to contend against ; while those who cannot 
go all lengths with either, can hardly escape the disapprobation 
of both. 

To apply the remark to the present case. — The author is appre- 
hensive that she may be at once censured by opposite classes of 
readers, as bemg too strict, and too relaxed ; — too much attached 
to opinions, and too indifferent about them ; — as having narrowed 
the broad field of Christianity by laboring to establish its peculiar 
doctrines ; — as having broken down its inclosures by not confining 
herself to doctrines exclusively ; — as having considered morality 
of too little importance, as having raised it to an undue elevation ; 
— as having made practice every thing ; as having made it no- 
thing. 

While a Catholic spirit is accused of being latitudinarian in one 
party, it really is so in another. In one, it exhibits the character 
of Christianity on her own grand but correct scale ; in the other, 
it is the offspring of that indifference, which, considering all opinions 
as of nearly the same value, indemnifies itself for tolerating all, by 
not attaching itself to any; which, establishing a self-complacent 
notion of general benevolence, with a view to discredit the narrow 
spirit of Christianity, and adopting a display of that cheap material, 
liberal sentiment, as opposed to religious strictness, sacrifices true 
piety to false candor. 

Christianity may be said to suffer between two criminals, but it 
is difficult to determine by which she suflfers most; — whether by 
that uncharitable bigotry which disguises her divine character, and 
speculatively adopts the fagot and the flames of inquisitorial intol- 
erance ; or by that indiscriminate candor, that conceding slackness, 
which, by stripping her of her appropriate attributes, reduces her 
to something scarcely worth contending for; to something which, 
instead of making her the religion of Christ, generalizes her into 
any religion which may choose to adopt her. — The one distorts her 
lovely lineaments into caricature, and throws her graceful figure 
into gloomy shadow ; the other, by daubing her over with colors 
not her own, renders her form indistinct, and obliterates her fea- 



PREFACE. Vll 



tures. In the first instance, she excites little affection; in the 
latter, she is not recognised. r^u • .■ u 

The writer has endeavored to address herself as a Christian who 
must die soon, to Christians who must die certainly. She trusts 
that she shall not be accused of erecting herself mto a censor, but 
be considered as one who writes with a real consciousness that 
she is far from having reached the attainments she suggests ; with 
a heartfelt conviction of the danger of holding out a standard too 
likely to discredit her own practice. She writes not with the as- 
sumption of superiority, but with a deep practical sense ot the in- 
firmities aaainst which she has presumed to caution others, bhe 
wishes to be understood as speaking the language of sympathy, 
rather than of dictation; of feeling rather than of document, bo 
far from fancying herself exempt from the evils on which she has 
animadverted, her very feeling of those evils has assisted her in 
their delineation. Thus this interior sentiment of her own dehcien- 
cies which mi^ht be urged as a disqualification, has, she trusts, 
enabled her to point out dangers to others.— If the patient cannot 
lay down rules for the cure of a reigning disease, much less effect 
the cure • yet from the symptoms common to the same malady, he 
who labors under it may suggest the necessity of attending to it. 
He may treat the case feelingly, if not scientifically. Jle may 
substitute experience, in default of skill : he may msist on the value 
of the remedy he has neglected, as well as recommend that from 
which he has found benefit. , , , • „j„„^f 

The subiects considered in these volumes have been animadvert- 
ed on, have been in a manner exhausted, by persons before whose 
names the author bows down with the deepest humility ; by able 
professional instructers, by piety adorned with all the graces ot 
style, and invigorated with aU the powers of argument. 

Why then, it may be asked, multiply books which may rather 
incumber the reader than strengthen the cause ?— " I hat the older 
is better " cannot be disputed. But is not the bemg ''old some- 
times a reason why the being '' better " is not regarded ? Novelty 
itself is an attraction which but too often supersedes merit. A 
slighter drapery, if it be a new one, may excite a degree ot atten- 
tion to an object, not paid to it when clad in a richer garb to which 
the eye has been accustomed. t . j * 

The author may begin to ask with one of her earliest and most 
enlightened friends*—" Where is the world into which we were 
born ' " Death has broken most of those connections which made the 
honor and the happiness of her youthful days. Fresh hnks however 
have continued to attach her to society. She is singularly happy 
in the affectionate regard of a great number of amiable young per- 
sons, who may peruse, with additional attention, sentiments which 
come recommended to them by the warmth of their own attachment, 
more than by any claim of merit in the writer. Is there not some- 
thing in personal knowledge, something in the feelings of endeared 
acquaintance, which, by that hidden association, whence so much 
of OUT undefined pleasure is derived, if it does not impart new force 



* Dr. Johnson. 



Vlll PREFACE. 

to old truths, may excite a new interest in considering truths which 
are known ? Her concern for these engaging persons extends be- 
yond the transient period of present intercourse. It would shed a 
ray of brightness on her parting hour, if she could hope that any 
caution here held out, any principle here suggested, any habit here 
recommended, might be of use to any one of them, when the 
hand which now guides the pen, can be no longer exerted in their 
service. This would be remembering their friend in a way which 
would evince the highest affection in them, which would confer the 
truest honor on herself. 

Barley Wood, March 1st, 1811. 



CONTENTS. 



PRACTICAL PIETY. 

CHAPTER I. 

Christianity an Internal Principle. - - - 13 

CHAPTER II. 

Christianity a Practical Principle. - - 24 

CHAPTER III. 
Mistakes in Religion. . - - - 33 



CHAPTER IV. 

Periodical Religion. 

CHAPTER V. 

Prayer. - - - • 



45 



52 



CHAPTER VI. 
Cultivation of a Devotional Spirit. - - . 63 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Love of God. - - - - 72 

CHAPTER VHI. 

The hand of God to be acknowledged in the daily 
circumstances of life. - - - " ' 

CHAPTER IX. 

Christianity Universal in its Requisitions. - - 87 

CHAPTER X. 
Christian Holiness. 



CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XI. 

On the comparatively small faults and Virtues. - 101 

CHAPTER Xn. 
Self-Examination. - - - - 112 

CHAPTER Xm. 
Self-Love. - - - - _ -125 

CHAPTER XIV. 

On the conduct of Christians in their intercourse 
with the Irreligious. - - - - 136 

CHAPTER XV. 

On the propriety of introducing Religion in general 
conversation. - - - _ _ 143 

CHAPTER XVI. 
Christian Watchfulness. - - - 154 

CHAPTER XVII. 

True and false Zeal. - _ . - 166 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Insensibility to Eternal Things. - _ 175 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Happy Deaths, - - « . - 190 

CHAPTER XX. 

On the Sufferings of good Men. - - 203 

CHAPTER XXI. 
The Temper and Conduct of the Christian in Sick- 
ness and in Death. - - - _ 317 



CONTENTS. 



XI 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 



CHAPTER I. 

Introductory remarks on the morality of Pagan 
ism, showing the necessity of the Christian Reve- 
lation. _ - - - - 233 

CHAPTER II. 

On the Historical writers of the New Testament. 241 

CHAPTER III. 

On the Epistolary writers of the New Testament, 
particularly St. Paul. - - - - 249 

CHAPTER IV. 

St. Paul's Faith, a Practical Principle. - - 257 

CHAPTER V. 
The Morality of St. Paul. - - - 264 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Disinterestedness of St. Paul. - 273 

CHAPTER VII. 

St. Paul's Prudence in his conduct towards the Jews. 284 

CHAPTER VIII. 

St. Paul's Judgment in his intercourse with the 
Pagans _ _ - - - 293 

CHAPTER IX. 

On the general principles of St. Paul's VS^ritings. 305 

CHAPTER X. 

The Style and Genius of St. Paul. - - 318 

CHAPTER XI. 
St. Paul's Tenderness of Heart. - - SSO 



Xii CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XII. 

St. Paul's Heavenly Mindedness. - - - S42 

CHAPTER XIII. 

A general view of the qualities of St. Paul : his 
Imowledge of human nature — his delicacy in giving 
advice or reproof — his integrity. - - 850 

CHAPTER XIV. 

St. Paul on the Love of Money. - - - 363 

CHAPTER XV. 

On the genius of Christianity, as seen in St. Paul. 371 

CHAPTER XVI. 

St. Paul's respect for constituted authorities. - 881 

CHAPTER XVII. 

St. Paul's attention to Inferior Concerns. - - 391 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

St. Paul on the Resurrection. . - - 398 

CHAPTER XIX. 
St. Paul on Prayer, Thanksgiving, and Religious 
Joy. 406 

CHAPTER XX. 

St. Paul an Example to Familiar Life. - - 416 

CHAPTER XXI. 

On the superior advantages of the present period, for 
the attainment of knowledge, religion, and happi- 
ness. ------ 425 

CHAPTER XXII. 

Conclusion. — Cursory inquiry into some of the 
causes which impeded general improvement. - 434 



PRACTICAL PIETY, 



CHAP. I. 

Christianity an Internal Principle. 

Christianity bears all the marks of a divine original. 
It came down from heaven, and its gracious purpose is to 
carry us up thither. Its Author is God. It was foretold 
from the beginning by prophecies which grew clearer and 
brighter as they approached the period of their accomplish- 
ment. It was confirmed by miracles which continued till 
the religion they illustrated was established. It was rati- 
fied by the blood of its author. Its doctrines are pure, 
sublime, consistent. Its precepts just and holy. Its wor- 
ship is spiritual. Its service reasonable, and rendered 
practicable by the oifers of divine aid to human weakness. 
It is sanctioned by the promise of eternal happiness to the 
faithful, and the threat of everlasting misery to the diso- 
bedient. It had no collusion with power, for power sought 
to crush it. It could not be in any league with the world, 
for it set out by declaring itself the enemy of the world. 
It reprobated its maxims, it showed the vanity of its glories, 
the danger of its riches, the emptiness of its pleasures. 

Christianity, though the most perfect rule of life that 
ever was devised, is far from being barely a rule of hfe. 
A religion consisting of a mere code of laws, might have 
sufficed for man in a state of innocence. But man who 
has broken these laws cannot be saved by a rule which he 
has violated. What consolation could he find in the peru- 
sal of statutes, every one of which, bringing a fresh con- 
viction of his guilt, brings a fresh assurance of his con- 
demnation. The chief object of the Gospel is not to fur- 
nish rules for the preservation of innocence, but to hold 



14 CHRISTIANITY 

out the means of salvation to the guilty. It does not pro- 
ceed upon a supposition, but a fact; not upon what might 
have suited man in a state of purity, but upon what is 
suitable to him in the exigencies of his fallen state. 

This religion does not consist in an external conformity 
to practices which, though right in themselves, may be 
adopted from human motives, and to answer secular pur- 
poses. It is not a religion of forms, and modes, and de- 
cencies. It is being transformed into the image of God. 
It is being like-minded with Christ. It is considering him 
as our sanctification, as well as our redemption. It is en- 
deavoring to live to him here that we may live with him 
hereafter. It is desiring earnestly to surrender our will 
to his, our heart to the conduct of his spirit, our life to the 
guidance of his word. 

The change in the human heart, which the Scriptures 
declare to be necessary, they represent to be not so much 
an old principle improved, as a new one created; not 
educed out of the former character, but infused into the 
new one. This change is there expressed in great varie- 
ties of language, and under different figures of speech. 
Its being so frequently described, or figuratively intimated 
in almost every part of the volume of inspiration, entitles 
the doctrine itself to reverence, and ought to shield from 
obloquy the obnoxious terms in which it is sometimes con- 
veyed. 

The sacred writings frequently point out the analogy be- 
tween natural and spiritual things. The same spirit which 
in the creation of the world moved upon the face of the 
waters, operates on the human character to produce a new 
heart and a new life. By this operation the affections and 
faculties of the man receive a new impulse — his dark un- 
derstanding is illuminated, his rebellious will is subdued, 
his irregular desires are rectified; his judgment is inform- 
ed, his imagination is chastised, his inclinations are sancti- 
fied; his hopes and fears are directed to their true and ade- 
quate end. Heaven becomes the object of his hopes, an 
eternal separation from God the object of his fears. His 
love of the world is transmuted into the love of God. The 
lower faculties are pressed into the new service. The sen- 
ses have a higher direction. The whole internal frame and 
constitution receive a nobler bent; the intents and purposes 
of the mind a sublimer aim ; his aspirations a loftier flight ; 
his vacillating desires find a fixed object; his vagrant purpo- 
ses a settled home; his disappointed heart a certain refuge. 



AN INTERNAL PRINCIPLE. 15 

That heart, no longer the worshipper of the world, is strug- 
gling to become its conqueror. Our blessed Redeem- 
er, in overcoming the world, bequeathed us his command 
to overcome it also; but as he did not give the command 
without the example, so he did not give the example with- 
out the offer of a power to obey the command. 

Genuine religion demands not merely an external pro- 
fession of our allegiance to God, but an inward devotedness 
of ourselves to his service. It is not a recognition, but a 
dedication. It puts the Christian into a new state of things, 
a new condition of being. It raises him above the world 
while he lives in it. It disperses the illusions of sense, by 
opening his eyes to realities in the place of those shadows 
which he has been pursuing. It presents this world as a 
scene whose original beauty Sin has darkened and disor- 
dered, Man as a helpless and dependent creature, Jesus 
Christ as the repairer of all the evils which sin has caused, 
and as our restorer to holiness and happiness. Any reli- 
gion short of this, any, at least, which has not this for its 
end and object, is not that religion which the Gospel has 
presented to us, which our Redeemer came down on earth 
to teach us by his precepts, to illustrate by his example, to 
confirm by his death, and to consummate by his resurrec- 
tion. 

If Christianity do not always produce these happy ef- 
fects to the extent here represented, it has always a ten- 
dency to produce them. If we do not see the progress to 
be such as the Gospel annexes to the transforming power 
of true religion, it is not owing to any defect in the princi- 
ple, but to the remains of sin in the heart; to the imper- 
fectly subdued corruptions of the Christian. Those who 
are very sincere are still very imperfect. They evidence 
their sincerity by acknowledging the lowness of their at- 
tainments, by lamenting the remainder of their corruptions. 
Many an humble Christian whom the world reproaches 
with being extravagant in his zeal, whom it ridicules for 
being enthusiastic in his aims, and rigid in his practice, is 
inwardly mourning on the very contrary ground. He 
would bear their censure more cheerfully, but that he feels 
his danger lies in the opposite direction. He is secretly 
abasing himself before his Maker for not carrying far 
enough that principle which he is accused of carrying too 
far. The fault which others find in him is excess. The 
fault he finds in himself is deficiency. He is, alas! too 
commonly right. His enemies speak of him as they hear 



16 CHRISTIANITY 

He judges of himself as he feels. But, though humbled 
to the dust by the deep sense of his own unworthiness, he 
is " strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might." 
'' He has," says the venerable Hooker, " a Shepherd full 
of kindness, full of care, and full of power." His prayer 
is not for reward but pardon. His plea is not merit but 
mercy; but then it is mercy made sure to him by the 
promise of the Almighty to penitent believers. 

The mistake of many in religion appears to be, that they 
do not begin with the beginning. They do not lay their 
foundation in the persuasion that man is by nature in a 
state of alienation from God. They consider him rather 
as an imperfect than as a fallen creature. They allow that 
he requires to be improved, but deny that b^ requires a 
thorough renovation of heart. 

But genuine Christianity can never be grafted on any 
other stock than the apostasy of man. The design to rein- 
state beings who have not fallen; to propose a restoration 
without a previous loss, a cure where there was no radical 
disease, is altogether an incongruity which would seem too 
palpable to require confutation, did we not so frequently 
see the doctrine of redemption maintained by those who 
deny that man was in a state to require such a redemption. 
But would Christ have been sent "to preach deliverance 
to the captive," if there had been no captivity; and " the 
opening of the prison to them that were bound," had there 
oeen no prison, had man been in no bondage? 

We are aware that many consider the doctrine in ques- 
tion as a bold charge against our Creator. But may we 
not venture to ask. Is it not a bolder charge against God's 
goodness to presume that he had made beings originally 
wicked, and against God's veracity to believe, that having 
made such beings, he pronounced them "good?" Is not 
that doctrine more reasonable which is expressed or im- 
plied in every part of Scripture, that the moral corruption of 
our first parent has been entailed on his whole posterity; 
that from this corruption (though only punishable for their 
actual offences) they are no more exempt than from natural 
death? 

We must not, however, think falsely of our nature; we 
must humble but not degrade it. Our original brightness 
is obscured, but not extinguished. If we consider ourselves 
in our natural state, our estimation cannot be too low: 
when we reflect at what a price we have been bought, we 
can hardly over-rate ourselves in the view of immortality. 



AN INTERIVAL PRINCIPLE. 17 

If, indeed, the Almighty had left us to the consequences 
of our natural state, we might, with more color of reason, 
have mutinied against his justice. But when we see how 
graciously he has turned our very lapse into an occasion of 
improving our condition; how from this evil he was pleased 
to advance us to a greater good than we had lost; how that 
life which was forfeited may be restored; how by grafting 
the redemption of man on the very circumstance of his fall, 
he has raised him to the capacity of a higher condition 
than that which he has forfeited, and to a happiness supe- 
rior to that from which he fell — What an impression does 
this give us of the immeasurable wisdom and goodness of 
God, of the unsearchable riches of Christ. 

The religion which it is the object of these pages to re- 
commend, has been sometimes misunderstood, and not sel- 
dom misrepresented. It has been described as an unpro- 
ductive theory, and ridiculed as a fanciful extravagance. 
For the sake of distinction it is here called. The Religion 
of the heart. There it subsists as the fountain of spiritual 
hfe; thence it sends forth, as from the central seat of its 
existence, supplies of life and warmth through the whole 
frame: there is the soul of virtue, there is the vital princi- 
ple which animates the whole being of a Christian. 

This religion has been the support and consolation of 
the pious believer in all ages of the Church. That it has 
been perverted both by the cloistered and the un-cloistered 
mystic, not merely to promote abstraction of mind, but in- 
activity of life, makes nothing against the principle itself. 
What doctrine of the New Testament has not been made 
to speak the language of its injudicious advocate, and 
turned into arms against some other doctrine which it was 
never meant to oppose? 

But if it has been carried to a blamable excess by the 
pious error of holy men, it has also been adopted by the 
less innocent fanatic, and abused to the most pernicious 
purposes. His extravagance has furnished to the enemies 
of internal religion, arguments, or rather invectives, against 
the sound and sober exercises of genuine piety. They 
seize every occasion to represent it as if it were criminal, 
as the foe of morality ; ridiculous as the infallible test of 
an unsound mind; mischievous, as hostile to active virtue, 
and destructive as the bane of public utility. 

But if these charges be really well founded, then were 
the brightest luminaries of the Christian Church — then 
were Home, and Porteus, and Beveridge ; then were Hook- 

2* 



18 CHRISTIANITY 

er, and Taylor, and Herbert; Hopkins, Leighton, and 
Usher; Howe, and Baxter, Ridley, Jewel, and Hooper; — 
then were Chrysostom and Augustin, the Reformers and 
the Fathers; then were the goodly fellowship of the 
Prophets, then were the noble army of Martyrs, then were 
the glorious company of the Apostles, then was the Disci- 
ple whom Jesus loved, then was Jesus himself — I shudder 
at the implication — dry speculatists, frantic enthusiasts, 
enemies to virtue, and subverters of the public weal. 

Those who disbelieve, or deride, or reject this inward 
religion, are much to be compassionated. Their belief 
that no such principle exists, will, it is to be feared, effectu- 
ally prevent its existing in themselves, at least, while they 
make their own state the measure of their general judg- 
ment. Not being sensible of the required dispositions, in 
their own hearts, they establish this as a proof of its im- 
possibility in all cases. This persuasion, as long as they 
maintain it, will assuredly exclude the reception of divine 
truth. What they assert can be true in no case, cannot 
be true in their own. Their hearts will be barred against 
any influence in the power of which they do not believe. 
They will not desire it, they will not pray for it, except in 
the Liturgy, where it is the decided language: They will 
not addict themselves to those pious exercises to which il 
invites them, exercises which it ever loves and cherishes 
Thus they expect the end, but avoid the way which leads 
to it; they indulge the hope of glory, while they neglect 
or pervert the means of Grace. But let not the formal re- 
ligionist, who has, probably, never sought, and, therefore, 
never obtained, any sense of the spiritual mercies of God, 
conclude that there is, therefore, no such state. His having 
no conception of it is no more proof that no such state ex- 
ists, than it is a proof that the cheering beams of a genial 
climate have no existence, because the inhabitants of the 
frozen zone have never felt them. 

Where our own heart and experience do not illustrate 
these truths practically, so as to afford us some evidence of 
their reality, let us examine our minds, and faithfully fol- 
low up our convictions; let us inquire whether God has 
really been wanting in the accomplishment of his promises, 
or whether we have not been sadly deficient in yielding to 
those suggestions of conscience which arc the motions of 
his spirit? Whether we have not neglected to implore the 
aids of that Spirit; whether we have not, in various instan- 
ces, resisted them? Let us ask ourselves — have we looked 



AN INTERNAL PRINCIPLE. 19 

up to our Heavenly Father with humble dependence for the 
supplies of his grace? or have we prayed for these bless- 
ings only as a form, and having acquitted ourselves of the 
form, do we continue to live as if we had not so prayed? 
Having repeatedly implored his direction, do we endeavor 
to submit ourselves to its guidance ? Having prayed that 
his will may be done, do we never stoutly set up our own 
will in contradiction to his? 

If, then, we receive not the promised support and com- 
fort, the failure must rest somewhere. It lies between 
him who has promised, and him to whom the promise is 
made. There is no other alternative; would it not be 
blasphemy to transfer the failure to God? Let us not, 
then, rest, till we have cleared up the difficulty. The 
spirits sink, and the faith fails, if, after a continued round 
of reading and prayer; after having, for years, conformed 
to the letter of the command; after having scrupulously 
brought in our tale of outward duties; we find ourselves 
just where we were at setting out. 

We complain justly of our own weakness, and truly 
plead our inability as a reason why we cannot serve God 
as we ought. This infirmity, its nature, and its measure, 
God knows far more exactly than we know it; yet he 
knows that, with the help which he offers us, we can both 
love and obey him, or he never would have made it the 
qualification of our obtaining his favor. He never would 
have said "give me thy heart" — "seek ye my face" — 
add to your faith virtue? — " have a right heart and a right 
spirit" — "strengthen the things that remain" — " ye will 
not come to me that ye might have life" — had not all these 
precepts a definite meaning, had not all these been practi- 
cable duties. 

Can we suppose that the omniscient God would have 
given these unqualified commands to powerless, incapable, 
unimpressible beings? Can we suppose that he would 
paralyse his creatures, and then condemn them for not 
being able to move? He knows, it is true, our natural 
impotence, but he knows, because he confers, our super- 
induced strength. There is scarcely a command in the 
whole Scripture which has not either immediately, or in 
some other part, a corresponding prayer, and a corres- 
ponding promise. If it says in one place "get thee a 
new heart" — it says in another "a new heart will I give 
thee;" — and in a third "make me a clean heart?" For it 
is worth observing that a diligent inquirer may trace every 



20 CHRISTIANITY 

where this threefold union. If God commands by Saint 
Paul " let not sin reign in your mortal body," he promises 
by the same Apostle " Sin shall not have dominion over 
you;"- — while, to complete the tripartite agreement, he 
makes T) avid pray that his " sins may not have dominion 
over him." 

The saints of old, so far from setting up on the stock of 
their own independent virtue, seem to have had no idea of 
any light but what was imparted, of any strength but what 
was communicated to them from above. — Hear their impor- 
tunate petitions! — " O send forth thy light and thy truth!" 
— Mark their grateful declarations! — "the Lord is my 
strength and my salvation!" — Observe their cordial ac- 
knowledgements! — "bless the Lord, O my soul, and all 
that is within me bless his holy name." 

Though we must be careful not to mistake for the divine 
Agency those impulses which pretend to operate indepen- 
dently of external revelation; which have little reference 
to it; which set themselves above it; it is however that 
powerful agency which sanctifies all means, renders all 
external revelation effectual. — Notwithstanding that all 
the truths of religion, all the doctrines of salvation are con- 
tained in the holy scriptures, these very scriptures require 
the influence of that spirit which dictated them to produce 
an influential faith. This Spirit, by enlightening the mind, 
converts the rational persuasion, brings the intellectual 
conviction of divine truth conveyed in the New Testament, 
into an operative principle. A man, from reading, exam- 
ining, and inquiring, may attain to such a reasonable 
assurance of the truth of revelation as will remove all 
doubts from his own mind, and even enable him to refute 
the objections of others; but this bare intellectual faith 
alone will not operate against his corrupt affections, will 
not cure his besetting sin, will not conquer his rebellious 
will, and may not therefore be an efficacious principle. A 
mere historical faith, the mere evidence of facts with the 
soundest reasonings, and deductions from them, may not 
be that faith which will fill him with all joy and peace in 
believing. 

An habitual reference to that Spirit which animates the 
real Christian is so far from excluding, that it strengthens" 
the truth of revelation, but never contradicts it. The word 
of God is always in unison with his spirit. His spirit is 
never in opposition to his word. Indeed, that this influence 
is not an imaginary thing, is confirmed by the whole tenor 



AN INTERNAL PRINCIPLE. 



of Scripture. We are aware that we are treading on dan 
gerous, because disputed ground; for among the fashion- 
able curtailments of scripture doctrines, there is not one 
truth which has been lopped from the modern creed with a 
more unsparing hand; not one, the defence of which excites 
more suspicion against its advocates. But if it had been a 
mere phantom, should we with such jealous iteration, have 
been cautioned against neglecting or opposing it ? If the 
Holy Spirit could not be " grieved," might not be '' quench- 
ed," were not likely to be ''resisted;" that very spirit 
which proclaimed the prohibitions would never have said 
"grieve not," " quench not," ''resist not." The Bible 
never warns us against imaginary evil, nor courts us to 
imaginary good. If then we refuse to yield to its guidance, 
it we reject its directions, if we submit not to its o-entle per- 
suasions, for such they are, and not arbitrary compulsions 
we shall never attain to that peace and liberty which are 
the privilege, the promised reward of sincere Christians. 

In speaking of that peace which passeth understanding, 
we allude not to those illuminations and raptures, which' 
if God has in some instances bestowed them, he has no 
where pledged himself to bestow; but of that rational yet 
elevated hope which flows from an assured persuasion of 
the paternal love of our heavenly Father; of that " secret 
of the Lord," which he himself has assured us, " is with 
them that fear him;" of that life and power of religion 
which are the privilege of those "who abide under the 
shadow of the Almighty;" of those who "know in whom 
they have believed;" of those "who walk not after the 
flesh but after the spirit;" of those "who endure as seeing 
him who is invisible." 

Many faults may be committed where there is neverthe- 
less a sincere desire to please God. Many infirmities are 
consistent with a cordial love of our Redeemer. Faith 
may be sincere where it is not strong. But he who can 
conscientiously say that he seeks the favor of God above 
every earthly good; that he delights in his service incom- 
parably more than in any other gratification; that to obey 
him here and to enjoy his presence hereafter is the prevail- 
ing desire of his heart; that his chief sorrow is that he 
loves him no more and serves him no better, such a man 
requires no evidence that his heart is changed, and his sins 
forgiven. 

For the happiness of a Christian does not consist in mere 
feelings which may deceive, nor in frames which can be 



22 CHRISTIANITY 

only occasional; but in a settled, calm conviction that God 
and eternal things have the predominance in his heart; in 
a clear perception that they have, though with much alloy 
of infirmity, the supreme, if not undisturbed possession of 
his mind; in an experimental persuasion that his chief re- 
maining sorrow is, that he does not surrender himself with 
so complete an acquiescence as he ought to his convictions. 
These abatements, though sufficient to keep us humble, 
are not powerful enough to make us unhappy. 

The true measure then to be taken of our state is from 
a perceptible change in our desires, tastes, and pleasures; 
from a sense of progress, however small, in holiness of 
heart and life. This seems to be the safest rule of judging, 
for if mere feelings were allowed to be the criterion, the 
presumptuous would be inflated with spiritual pride from 
the persuasion of enjoying them; while the humble, from 
their very humility, might be as unreasonably depressed at 
wanting such evidences. 

The recognition of this divine aid then, involves no pre- 
sumption, raises no illusion, causes no inflation; it is sober 
in its principle and rational in its exercise. In establishing 
the law of God it does not reverse the law of Nature, for it 
leaves us in full possession of those natural faculties which 
,t improves and sanctifies; and so far from inflaming the 
imagination, its proper tendency is to subdue and regulate it. 

A security which outruns our attainments is a most dan- 
gerous state, yet it is a state most unwisely coveted. The 
probable way to be safe hereafter, is not to be presumptu- 
ous now. If God graciously vouchsafe us inward conso- 
lation, it is only to animate us to farther progress. It is 
given us for support in our way, and not for a settled 
maintenance in our present condition. If the promises are 
our aliment, the commandments are our work; and a tem- 
perate Christian ought to desire nourishment only in order 
to carry him through his business. If he so supinely rest 
on the one as to grow sensual and indolent, he might be- 
come not only unwilling but incapacitated for the perform- 
ance of the other. We must not expect to live upon cor- 
dials, which only serve to inflame without strengthening. 
Even without these supports, which we are more ready to 
desire than to put ourselves in the way to obtain, there is 
an inward peace in an humble trust in God, and in a sim- 
ple reliance on his word; there is a repose of spirit, a free- 
dom from solicitude in a lowly confidence in him, for which 
the world has nothing to give in exchange. 



AN INTERNAL PRINCIPLE. 23 

On the whole, then, the state which we have been des- 
cribing, is not the dream of the Enthusiast; it is not the 
reverie of the Visionary, who renounces prescribed duties 
for fanciful speculations, and embraces shadows for reali- 
ties; but it is that sober earnest of Heaven, that reasona- 
ble anticipation of eternal felicity, which God is graciously 
pleased to grant, not partially, nor arbitrarily, but to all 
who diligently seek his face, to all to whom his service is 
freedom, his will a law, his word a delight, his Spirit a 
guide ; to all who love him unfeignedly, to all who devote 
themselves to him unreservedly, to all who with deep self- 
abasement, yet with filial confidence, prostrate themselves 
at the foot of his Throne, saying. Lord, lift thou up the 
light of thy countenance upon us and we shall be safe. 



24 CHRISTIANITY 

CHAP. II. 

Christianity a Practical Principle. 

If God be the Author of our spiritual life, the root from 
which we derive the vital principle, with daily supplies to 
maintain this vitality; then the best evidence we can give 
that we have received something of this principle, is an un- 
reserved dedication of ourselves to the actual promotion of 
his glory. No man ought to flatter himself that he is in the 
favor of God, whose life is not consecrated to the service 
of God. Will it not be the only unequivocal proof of such 
a consecration, that he be more zealous of good works than 
those who, disallowing the principle on which he performs 
them, do not even pretend to be actuated by any such 
motive ? 

The finest theory never yet carried any man to Heaven. 
A religion of notions which occupies the mind, without 
filling the heart, may obstruct, but cannot advance the 
salvation of men. If these notions are false, they are most 
pernicious; if true and not operative, they aggravate guilt; 
if unimportant though not unjust, they occupy the place 
which belongs to nobler objects, and sink the mind below 
its proper level; substituting the things which only ought 
not to be left undone, in the place of those which ought to 
be done ; and causing the grand essentials not to be done 
at all. Such a religion is not that which Christ came to 
teach mankind. 

All the doctrines of the Gospel are practical principles. 
The word of God was not written, the Son of God was not 
incarnate, the Spirit of God was not given, only that 
Christians might obtain right views, and possess just no- 
tions. Religion is something more than mere correctness 
of intellect, justness of conception, and exactness of judg- 
ment. It is a life-giving principle. It must be infused 
into the habit, as well as govern in the understanding; it 
must regulate the will as well as direct the creed. It must 
not only cast the opinions into a new frame, but the heart 
into a new mould. It is a transforming as well as a pene- 
trating principle. It changes the tastes, gives activity to 
the inclinations, and, together with a new heart, produces 
a new life. 



A PRACTICAL PllINCirLE. 2o 

Christianity enjoins the same temper, the same spirit, 
the same dispositions, on all its real professors. The act, 
the performance, must depend on circumstances which do 
not depend on us. The power of doing good is withheld 
from many, from whom, however, the reward will not be 
withheld. If the external act constituted the whole value 
of Christian virtue, then must the Author of all good be 
himself the Author of injustice, by putting it out of the 
power of multitudes to fulfil his own commands. In prin- 
ciples, in tempers, in fervent desires, in holy endeavors, 
consist the very essence of Christian duty. 

Nor must we fondly attach ourselves to the practice of 
some particular virtue, or value ourselves exclusively on 
some favorite quality; nor must we wrap ourselves up in 
the performance of some individual actions, as if they 
formed the sum of Christian duty. But we must embrace 
the whole law of God in all its aspects, bearings, and re- 
lations. We must bring no fancies, no partialities, no 
prejudices, no exclusive choice or rejection, into our reli- 
gion, but take it as we find it, and obey it as we receive 
it, as it is exhibited in the Bible, without addition, curtail- 
ment, or adulteration. 

Nor must we pronounce on a character by a single action 
really bad, or apparently good; if so, Peter's denial would 
render him the object of our execration, while we should 
have judged favorably of the prudent economy of Judas. 
The catastrophe of the latter, who does not know ? while 
the other became a glorious martyr to that Master whom, 
in a moment of infirmity, he had denied. 

A piety altogether spiritual, disconnected with all out 
ward circumstances; a religion of pure meditation, and 
abstracted devotion, was not made for so compound, so 
imperfect a creature as man. There have, indeed, been 
a few sublime spirits, not " touch'd but rapt," who, totally 
cut off from the world, seem almost to have literally soar- 
ed above this terrene region; who almost appear to have 
stolen the fire of the Seraphim, and to have had no busi- 
ness on earth, but to keep alive the celestial flame. The> 
would, however, have approximated more nearly to the 
example of their divine Master, the great standard and 
only perfect model, had they combined a more diligent 
discharge of the active duties and beneficences of life 
with their high devotional attainments. 

But while we are in little danger of imitating, let us not 
too harshiv censure the pious error of these sublimated 

2 



i6 CHRISTIAxMTY 

spirits. Their number is small. Their example is not 
catching. Their etherial fire is not likely, by spreading, 
to inflame the world. The world will take due care not 
to come in contact with it, while its distant light and 
warmth may cast, accidentally, a not unuseful ray on the 
cold-hearted and the worldly. 

But from this small number of refined but inoperative 
beings, we do not intend to draw our notions of practical 
piety. God did not make a religion for these few excep- 
tions to the general state of the world, but for the world at 
large; for beings active, busy, restless; whose activity 
he, by his word, diverts into its proper channels; whose 
busy spirit is there directed to the common good; whose 
restlessness, indicating the unsatisfactoriness of all they 
find on earth, he points to a higher destination. Were 
total seclusion and abstraction designed to have been the 
general state of the world, God would have given man 
other laws, other rules, other faculties, and other employ- 
ments. 

There is a class of visionary, but pious writers, who 
seem to shoot as far beyond the mark, as mere moralists 
fall short of it. Men of low views and gross minds may 
be said to be wise below what is written, while those of too 
subtle refinement are wise above it. The one grovel in 
the dust from the inertness of their intellectual faculties; 
while the others are lost in the clouds by stretching them 
beyond their appointed limits. The one build spiritual 
castles in the air, instead of erecting them on the "holy 
ground" of Scripture; the other lay their foundation in 
the sand instead of resting it on the rock of ages. Thus, 
the superstructure of both is equally unsound. 

God is the fountain from which all the streams of good- 
ness flow; the centre from which all the rays of blessed- 
ness diverge. All our actions are, therefore, only good, 
as they have a reference to Him: the streams must revert 
back to their fountain, the rays must converge again to 
their centre. 

If love of God be the governing principle, this powerful 
spring will actuate all the movements of the rational ma- 
chine. The essence of religion does not so much consist 
in actions as affections. Though right actions, therefore, 
as from an excess of courtesy they are commonly termed, 
may be performed where there are no right affections; yet 
are thev a mere carcase, utterly destitute of the soul, and, 
therefore, of the substance of virtue. But neither can af- 



A PRACTICAL PRINCIPLE, 27 

fections substantially and truly subsist without producino- 
right actions; tor never let it be forgotten that a pious in- 
clination which has not life and vigor sufficient to ripen 
into act when the occasion presents itself, and a right ac- 
tion which does not grow out of a sound principle, will 
neither of them have any place in the account of real 
goodness, A good inclination will be contrary to sin, but 
a mere inclination will not subdue sin. 

The love of God, as it is the source of every right 
action and feeling, so it is the only principle which neces- 
sarily involves the love of our fellow creatures. As man 
we do not love man. There is a love of partiality, but not 
of benevolence ; of sensibility but not of philanthrophy ; of 
friends and favorites, of parties and societies, but not of 
man collectively. It is true we may, and do, without this 
principle, relieve his distresses, but we do not bear with his 
faults. We may promote his fortune, but we do not for- 
give his offences; above all, we are not anxious for his im- 
mortal interests. We could not see him want without pain, 
but we can see him sin without emotion. We could not 
hear of a beggar perishing at our door without horror, but 
we can, without concern, witness an acquaintance dying 
without repentance. Is it not strange that we must par- 
ticipate something of the divine nature, before we can 
really love the human? It seems, indeed, to be an insensi- 
bility to sin, rather than want of benevolence to mankind, 
that makes us naturally pity their temporal and be careless 
of their spiritual wants; but does not this very insensibility 
proceed from the want of love to God ."* 

As it is the habitual frame, and predominating disposi- 
tion, which are the true measure of virtue, incidental good 
actions are no certain criterion of the state of the heart; 
for who is there, who does not occasionally do them? Hav- 
ing made some progress in attaining this disposition, we 
must not sit down satisfied with propensities and inclina- 
tions to virtuous actions, while we rest short of their actual 
exercise. If the principle be that of sound Christianity, it 
will never be inert. While we shall never do good with 
any great effect, till we labor to be conformed, in some 
measure, to the image of God; we shall best evince our 
having obtained something of that conformity, by a course 
of steady and active obedience to God. 

Every individual should bear in mind, that he is sent 
into this world to act a part in it. And though one may 
have a more splendid, and another a more obscure part 



'28 CHRISTIAMTY 

assigned him, yet the actor of each is equally, is awfully 
accountable. Though God is not a hard, he is an exact 
Master. His service, though not a severe, is a reasonable 
service. He accurately proportions his requisitions to his 
gifts. If he does not expect that one talent should be as 
productive as five, yet to even a single talent a proportion- 
able responsibility is annexed. 

He who has said " Give me thy heart," will not be sat- 
isfied with less; he will not accept the praying lips, nor 
the mere hand of charity, as substitutes. 

A real Christian will be more just, sober, and charitable 
than other men, though he will not rest for salvation on 
justice, sobriety, or charity. He will perform the duties 
they enjoin, in the spirit of Christianity, as instances of 
devout obedience, as evidences of a heart devoted to God. 

All virtues, it cannot be too often repeated, are sanctified 
or unhallowed according to the principle which dictates 
them; and will be accepted or rejected accordingly. This 
principle, kept in due exercise, becomes a habit, and every 
act strengthens the inclination, adding vigor to the princi- 
ple and pleasure to the performance. 

We cannot be said to be real Christians, till religion 
become our animating motive, our predominating principle 
and pursuit, as much as worldly things are the predomina- 
ting motive, principle, and pursuit of worldly men. 

New converts, it is said, are most zealous, but they are 
not always the most persevering. If their tempers are 
warm, and they have only been touched on the side of their 
passions, they start eagerly, march rapidly, and are full of 
confidence in their own strength. They too often judge 
others with little charity, and themselves with little humil- 
ity. While they accuse those who move steadily of stand- 
ing still, they fancy their own course will never be slack- 
ened. If their conversion be not solid, religion, in losing 
its novelty, loses it power. Their speed declines. Nay 
it will be happy if their motion become not retrograde. 
Those who are truly sincere, will commonly be persever- 
ing. If their speed is less eager, it is more steady. x4lS 
they know their own heart more, they discover its deceit- 
fulness, and learn to distrust themselves. As they become 
more humble in spirit they become more charitable in judg- 
ing. As they grow more firm in principle they grow more 
exact in conduct. 

The rooted habits of a religious life may indeed lose 
their prominence because they are become more indented. 



A PRACTICAL PRINCIPLE 29 

If they are not embossed, it is because they are burnt in. 
Where there is uniformity and consistency in the whole 
character, there will be little relief in an individual action. 
A good deed will be less striking in an established Chris- 
tian than a deed less good in one who had been previously 
careless; good actions being his expected duty and his 
ordinary practice. Such a Christian indeed, when his 
right habits cease to be new and striking, may fear that he 
is declining: but his quiet and confirmed course is a surer 
evidence than the more early starts of charity, or fits of 
piety, which may have drawn more attention and obtained 
more applause. 

Again; We should cultivate most assiduously, because 
the work is most difficult, those graces which are most 
opposite to our natural temper; the value of our good 
qualities depending much on their being produced by the 
victory over some natural wrong propensity. The implan- 
tation of a virtue is the eradication of a vice. It will cost 
one man more to keep down a rising passion than to do a 
brilliant deed. It will try another more to keep back a 
sparkling but corrupt thought, which his wit had suggest- 
ed, but which his religion checks, than it would to give a 
large sum in charity. A real Christian being deeply sen- 
sible of the worthlessness of any actions, which do not 
spring from the genuine fountain, will aim at such an habit- 
ual conformity to the divine image, that to perform all acts 
of justice, charity, kindness, temperance, and every kin- 
dred virtue, may become the temper, the habitual, the 
abiding state of his heart; that like natural streams they 
may flow spontaneously from the living source. 

Practical Christianity then, is the actual operation of 
Christian principles. It is lying on the watch for occa- 
sions to exemplify them. It is " exercising ourselves unto 
godliness." A Christian cannot tell in the morning, what 
opportunities he may have of doing good during the day; 
but if he be a real Christian, he can tell that he will try to 
keep his heart open, his mind prepared, his affections alive 
to do whatever may occur in the way of duty. He will, 
as it were, stand in the way to receive the orders of Provi- 
dence. Doing good is his vocation. Nor does the young 
artisan bind himself by firmer articles to the rigid per- 
formance of his master's work, than the indentured Chris- 
tian to the active service of that divine Master, who him- 
self " went about doing good." He rejects no duty, which 
comes within the sphere of his calling, nor does he think 



30 CHRISTIANITY 

the work he is employed in a good one, if he might be do- 
ing a better. His having well acquitted himself of a good 
action, is so far from furnishing him with an excuse for 
avoiding the next, that it is a new reason for his embark- 
ing in it. He looks not at the work which he has accom- 
plished; but on that which he has to do. His views are 
always prospective. His charities are scarcely limited by 
his power. His will knows no limits. His fortune may 
have bounds. His benevolence has none. He is, in mind 
and desire, the benefactor of every miserable man. His 
heart is open to all the distressed; to the household of 
faith it overflows. Where the heart is large, however 
small the ability, a thousand ways of doing good will be 
invented. Christian charity is a great enlarger of means. 
Christian self-denial negatively accomplishes the purpose 
of the favorites of fortune in the Fables of the Nursery: — 
if it cannot fill the purse by a wish, it will not empty it by 
a vanity. It provides for others by abridging from itself. 
Having carefully defined what is necessary and becoming, 
it allows of no encroachment on its definition. Superflui- 
ties it will lop, vanities it will cut off. The deviser of lib- 
eral things will find means of effecting them, which to the 
indolent appear incredible, to the covetous impossible. 
Christian beneficence takes a large sweep. That circum- 
ference cannot be small, of which God is the centre. Nor 
does religious charity in a Christian stand still because not 
kept in motion by the main spring of the world. Money 
may fail, but benevolence will be going on. If he cannot 
relieve want, he may mitigate sorrow. He may warn the 
inexperienced, he may instruct the ignorant, he may con- 
firm the doubting. The Christian will find out the cheap- 
est way of being good as well as of doing good. If he can- 
not give money, he may exercise a more difficult virtue; 
he may forgive injuries. Forgiveness is the economy of 
the heart. A Christian will find it cheaper to pardon than 
to resent. Forgiveness saves the expense of anger, the cost 
of hatred, the waste of spirits. It also puts the soul into a 
frame, which makes the practice of other virtues easy. 
The achievement of a hard duty is a great abolisher of 
difficulties. If great occasions do not arise, he will thank- 
fully seize on small ones. If he cannot glorify God by 
serving others, he knows that he has always something to do 
at home ; some evil temper to correct, some wrong propen- 
sity to reform, some crooked practice to straighten. He 
will never be at a loss for emplovment, while there is a sin 



A PRACTICAL PRINCIPLE. 31 

or a misery in the world; he will never bo idle, while there 
is a distress to be relieved in another, or a corruption to 
be cured in his own heart. We have employments assigned 
to us for every circumstance in life. VVhen we are alone, 
we have our thoughts to watch; in the family, our tem- 
pers; in company, our tongues. 

What an example of disinterested goodness and un- 
bounded kindness, have we in our heavenly Father, who 
is merciful over all his works, who distributes common 
blessings without distinction, who bestows the necessary 
refreshments of life, the shining sun and the refreshing 
shower, without w^aiting, as we are apt to do, for personal 
merit, or attachment or gratitude; who does not look out 
for desert, but want as a qualification for his favors; who 
does not afflict willingly, who delights in the happiness, 
and desires the salvation of all his children, who dispenses 
his daily munificence and bears with our daily ofiences; 
who in return for our violation of his laws, supplies our 
necessities, who waits patiently for our repentance, and 
even solicits us to have mercy on our own souls! 

What a model for our humble imitation, is that divine 
person who was clothed with our humanity ; who dwelt 
among us, that the pattern being brought near, might be 
rendered more engaging, the conformity be made more 
practicable; whose whole life was one unbroken series of 
universal charity; who in his complicated bounties, never 
forgot that man is compounded both of soul and body; who 
after teaching the multitude, fed them; who repulsed none 
for being ignorant; was impatient with none for being dull; 
despised none for being contemned by the world; rejected 
none for being sinners; who encouraged those whose im- 
portunity others censured; who in healing sicknesses con- 
verted souls, who gave bread and forgave injuries! 

It will be the endeavor of the sincere Christian to il- 
lustrate his devotions in the morning, by his actions dur- 
ing the day. He will try to make his conduct a practical 
exposition of the divine prayer which made a part of them. 
He will desire " to hallow the name of God," to promote 
the enlargement and " the coming " of the " kingdom" of 
Christ. He will endeavor to do and to suffer his whole 
will; " to forgive " as he himself trusts that he is forgiven. 
He will resolve to avoid that " temptation " into which he 
had been praying " not to be led; " and he w^ll labor to 
shun the " evil," from which he had been begging to be 
"delivered." He thus makes his prayers as practical as 



32 CHRISTIANITY 

the other parts of his religion, and lahors to render his con 
duct as spiritual as his prayers. The commentary and the 
text are of reciprocal application. 

If this gracious Saviour has left us a perfect model for 
our devotion in his prayer, he has left a model no less per- 
fect for our practice in his sermon. This divine exposition 
has been sometimes misunderstood. It was not so much a 
supplement to a defective law, as the restoration of the 
purity of a perfect law from the corrupt interpretations of 
its blind expounders. These persons had ceased to con- 
sider it as forbidding the principle of sin, and as only for- 
bidding the act. Christ restores it to its original meaning, 
spreads it out in its due extent, shows the largeness of its 
dimensions and the spirit of its institution. He unfolds all 
its motions, tendencies, and relations. Not contenting 
himself, as human legislators are obliged to do, to prohibit 
a man the act which is injurious to others, but the inward 
temper which is prejudicial to himself 

There cannot be a more striking instance, how emphat- 
ically every doctrine of the Gospel has a reference to prac- 
tical goodness, than is exhibited by St. Paul, in that mag- 
nificent picture of the resurrection, in his Epistle to the 
Corinthians, which our church has happily selected, for 
the consolation of survivers at the last closing scene of 
mortality. After an inference as triumphant, as it is logi- 
cal, that because "Christ is risen, we shall rise also;" 
after the most philosophical illustration of the raising of the 
body from the dust, by the process of grain sown in the 
earth, and springing up into a new mode of existence; 
after describing the subjugation of all things to the Re- 
deemer, and his laying down the mediatorial kingdom; 
after sketching with a seraph's pencil, the relative glories 
of the celestial and terrestrial bodies; after exhausting the 
grandest images of created nature, and the dissolution of 
nature itself; after such a display of the solemnities of the 
great day, as makes this v/orld, and all its concerns shrink 
into nothing: In such a moment, when, if ever, the rapt 
spirit might be supposed too highly wrought for precept and 
admonition — the apostle, wound up as he was, by the en- 
ergies of inspiration, to the immediate view of the glorified 
state — the last trumpet sounding — the change from mor- 
tal to immortality effected in the twinkling of an eye — the 
sting of death drawn out — victory snatched from the grave 
— then, by a turn, as surprising as it is beautiful, he draws 
a conclusion as unexpectedly practical as his premises 



A PRACTICAL PRINCIPLE. 



33 



were grand and awful: — " Therefore, my beloved breth- 
ren, be ye steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the 
work of the Lord." Then at once, by another quick tran- 
sition, resorting from the duty to the reward, and winding 
up the whole with an argument as powerful, as his rhetoric 
had been sublime, he adds — " forasmuch as ye know that 
i^our labor is not in vain in the Lord." 



CHAP. in. 

Mistakes in Religion. 



To point out, with precision, all the mistakes which ex- 
lirt in the present day, on the awful subject of religion, 
tvould far exceed the limits of this small work. No men- 
tion, therefore, is intended to be made of the opinions, or 
the practice of any particular body of people; nor will 
any notice be taken of any of the peculiarities of the nu- 
merous sects and parties which have risen up among us. 
It will be sufficient for the present purpose, to hazard some 
slio-ht remarks on a few of those common classes of char- 
acters which belong, more or less, to most general bodies. 

There are, among many others, three different sorts of 
religious professors. The religion of one consists in a 
sturdy defence of what they themselves call orthodoxy, 
an attendance on public worship, and a general decency 
of behavior. In their views of religion, they are not a 
little apprehensive of excess, not perceiving that their 
danger lies on the other side. They are far from rejecting 
faith, or morals, but are somewhat afraid of believing too 
much, and a little scrupulous about doing too much, lest 
the former be suspected of fanaticism, and the latter of 
singularity. These Christians consider religion as a point, 
which they, by their regular observances, having attained, 
there is nothing further required but to maintain the point 
they have reached, by a repetition of the same observances. 
They are therefore satisfied to remain stationary, consid- 
ering that whoever has obtained his end, is of course 
saved the labor of pursuit; he is to keep his ground, with- 
out troubling himself in searching after an iniaginary 
perfection. 



34 MISTAKES 

These frugal Christians are afraid of nothing so much 
as superfluity in their love, and supererogation in their 
obedience. This kind of fear, however, is always super- 
fluous, but most especially in those who are troubled with 
the apprehension. They are apt to weigh in the nicely 
poised scales of scrupulous exactness, the duties which 
must of hard necessity be done, and those which without 
much risk may be left undone; compounding for a larger 
indulgence by the relinquishment of a smaller; giving up, 
through fear, a trivial gratification to which they are less 
inclined, and snatching doubtingly, as an equivalent, at 
one they like better. The gratification in both cases 
being perhaps such as a manly mind would hardly think 
worth contending for, even were religion out of the ques- 
tion. Nothing but love to God can conquer love of the 
world. One grain of that divine principle would make the 
scale of self-indulgence kick the beam. 

These persons dread nothing so much as enthusiasm. 
Yet if to look for effects without their predisposing causes; 
to depend for heaven on that to which heaven was never 
promised, be features of enthusiasm, then are they them- 
selves enthusiasts. 

The religion of a second class, we have already de- 
scribed in the two preceding chapters. It consists in a 
heart devoted to its Maker; inwardly changed in its temper 
and disposition, yet deeply sensible of its remaining infirm- 
ities; continually aspiring, however, to higher improve- 
ments in faith, hope and charity, and thinking that "the 
greatest of these is charitij.^^ These, by the former class, 
are reckoned enthusiasts, but they are, in fact, if Chris- 
tianity be true, acting on the only rational principles. If 
the doctrines of the Gospel have any solidity, if its promises 
have any meaning, these Christians are building on no 
false ground. They hope that submission to the power of 
God, obedience to his laws, compliance with his will, trust 
in his word, are, through the efficacy of the Eternal Spirit, 
real evidences, because they are vital acts of genuine 
faith in Jesus Christ. If they profess not to place their 
reliance on works, they are however more zealous in 
performing them than the others, who, professing to depend 
on their good deeds for salvation, are not always diligent 
in securing it by the very means which they themselves 
establish to be alone effectual. 

There is a third class — the high-flown professor, who 
looks down from the giddy heights of antinomian delusion 



IN RELIGION. 35 

on the other two, abhors the one, and despises the other, 
conckides that the one is lost, and the other in a fair way 
to be so. Though perhaps not Uving himself in any course 
of immorality, which requires the sanction of such doctrines, 
he does not hesitate to imply in his discourse, that virtue 
is heathenish, and good works superfluous, if not danger- 
ous. He does not consider that, though the Gospel is an 
act of oblivion to penitent sinners, yet it nowhere promises 
pardon to those who continue to live in a state of rebellion 
against God, and of disobedience to his laws. He forgets 
to insist to others that it is of little importance even to 
believe that sin is an evil, (which, however, they do not 
always believe,) while they persist to live in it; that to 
know every thing of duty except the doing it, is to offend 
God with an aggravation, from which ignorance itself is 
exempt. It is not giving ourselves up to Christ in a name- 
less, inexplicable w^ay, which will avail us. God loves an 
humble, not an audacious faith. To suppose that the blood 
of Christ redeems us from sin, while sin continues to pol- 
lute the soul, is to suppose an impossibility; to maintain 
that it is effectual for the salvation, and not for the sancti- 
fication of the sinner, is to suppose that it acts like an 
amulet, an incantation, a talisman, which is to produce its 
effect by operating on the imagination, and not on the 
disease. 

The religion which mixes with human passions, and is 
set on fire by them, will make a stronger blaze than that 
light which is from above, which sheds a steady and last- 
ing brightness on the path, and communicates a sober 
but durable warmth to the heart. It is equable and con- 
stant; while the other, like culinary fire, fed by gross 
materials, is extinguished the sooner from the fierceness of 
the flame. 

That religion which is merely seated in the passions, 
is not only liable to wear itself out by its own impetu- 
osity, but to be driven out by some other passion. The 
dominion of violent passions is short. They dispossess 
each other. When religion has had its day, it gives 
way to the next usurper. Its empire is no more solid 
than it is lasting, when principle and reason do not fix it 
on the throne. 

The first of the above classes consider prudence as the 
paramount virtue in religion. Their antipodes, the flaming 
professors, believe a burning zeal to be the exclusive grace. 
They reverse vSaint Paul's collorntion of fhc three christian 



.36 MISTAKES 

graces, and think that the greatest of these is faith. 
Though even in respect of this grace, their conduct and 
conversation too often give us reason to lament that they 
do not bear in mind its genuine and distinctive properties. 
Their faith instead of working by love, seems to be adopt- 
ed from a notion that it leaves the Christian nothing to do, 
rather than because it is its nature to lead him to do more 
and better than other men. 

In this case, as in many others, that which is directly 
contrary to v>^hat is wrong, is wrong also. If each oppo- 
nent would only barter half his favorite quality with the 
favorite quality of the other, both parties would approach 
nearer to the truth. They might even furnish a com- 
plete Christian between them, that is, provided the zeal 
of the one was sincere, and the prudence of the other 
honest. But the misfortune is, each is as proud of not 
possessing the quality he wants, because his adversary has 
it, as he is proud of possessing that of which the other 
is destitute, and because he is destitute of it. 

Among the many mistakes in religion, it is commonly 
thought that there is something so unintelligible, absurd 
and fanatical in the term conversion, that those who em- 
ploy it run no small hazard of being involved in the ridicule 
it excites. It is seldom used but ludicrously, or in con- 
tempt. This arises partly from the levity and ignorance of 
the censurer, but perhaps as much from the imprudence 
and enthusiasm of those wlio have absurdly confined it to 
real or supposed instances of sudden or miraculous changes 
from profligacy to piety. But surely, with reasonable 
people, we run no risk in asserting that he, who being 
awakened by any of those various methods which the Al- 
mighty uses to bring his creatures to the knowledge of 
himself, who seeing the corruptions that are in the world, 
and feeling those with which his own heart abounds, is 
brought, whether gradually or more rapidly, from an evil 
heart of unbelief, to a lively faith in the Redeemer; from 
a life, not only of gross vice, but of worldliness and vanity, 
to a life of progressive piety ; whose humility keeps pace 
with his progress; who, though his attainments are ad- 
vancing, is so far from counting himself to have attained, 
that he presses onvv^ard with unabated zeal; and evi- 
dences, by the change in his conduct, the change that has 
taken place in his heart — such an one is surely as sin- 
cerely converted, and the effect is as much produced by 
the same divine energv, as if some instantaneous revolution 



IN RELIGION. 37 

in his character had given it a miraculous appearance. 
The doctrines of Scripture are the same now as when 
David called them, "a law converting the soul, and 
giving light to the eyes." I'his is, perhaps, the most 
accurate and comprehensive definition of the change for 
which we are contending, for it includes both the illu- 
mination of the understanding, and the alteration in the 
disposition. 

If, then, this obnoxious expression signify nothing more 
nor less than that change of character which consists in 
turning from the w^orld to God, however the term may 
oifend, there is nothing ridiculous in the thing. Now, as 
it is not for the term which we contend, but for the princi- 
ple conveyed by it; so it is the principle, and not the term, 
which is the real ground of objection; though it is a little 
inconsistent that many who would sneer at the idea of 
conversion, would yet take it extremely ill if it were sus- 
pected that their hearts were not turned to God. 

Reformation, a term against which no objection is ever 
made, would, if words continued to retain their primitive 
signification, convey the same idea. For it is plain that 
to re-form means to make anew. In the present use, how- 
ever, it does not convey the same meaning in the same 
extent, nor indeed does it imply the operation of the same 
principle. Many are reformed on human motives, many 
are partially reformed; but only those who, as our great 
poet says, are "reformed altogether," are converted. 
There is no complete reformation in the conduct effected 
without a revolution in the heart. Ceasing from some 
sins; retaining others in a less degree; or adopting such 
as are merely creditable; or flying from one sin to another; 
or ceasing from the external act without any internal change 
of disposition, is not Christian reformation. The new prin- 
ciple must abohsh the old habit, the rooted inclination must 
be subdued by the substitution of an opposite one. The 
natural bias must be changed. The actual offence will no 
more be pardoned than cured if the inward corruption be 
not eradicated. To be " alive unto God through Jesus 
Christ " must follow " the death unto sin." There cannot 
be new aims and ends where there is not a new principle 
to produce them. We shall not choose a new path until 
a light from Heaven direct our choice and "guide our 
feet." We shall not " run the way of God's command- 
ments," till God himself enlarge our heart. 

We do not, however, insist that the change required is 



38 MISTAKES 

such as precludes the possibihty of falling into sin; but it 
is a change which fixes in the soul such a disposition as 
shall make sin a burden, as shall make the desire of pleasing 
God the governing desire of a man's heart; as shall make 
him hate the evil which he does; as shall make the lowness 
of his attainments the subject of his deepest sorrow. A 
Christian has hopes and fears, cares and temptations, in- 
clinations and desires, as well as other men. God in 
changing the heart does not extinguish the passions. Were 
that the case, the Christian life would cease to be a warfare. 

We are often deceived by that partial improvement 
which appears in the victory over some one bad quality. 
But we must not mistake the removal of a symptom for a 
radical cure of the disease. An occasional remedy might 
remove an accidental sickness, but it requires a general 
regimen to renovate the diseased constitution. 

It is the natural but melancholy history of the unchanged 
heart, that, from youth to advanced years, there is no other 
revolution in the character but such as increases both the 
number and quality of its defects: that the levity, vanity, 
and self-sufficiency of the young man is carried into ad- 
vanced life, and only meet, and mix with, the defects of a 
mature period; that, instead of crying out with the royal 
prophet, " O remember not my old sins," he is inflaming 
his reckoning by new ones: that age, protracting all the 
faults of youth, furnishes its own contingent of vices; that 
sloth, suspicion, and covetousness, swell the account which 
religion has not been called in to cancel; that the world, 
though it has lost the power to delight, has yet lost nothing 
of its power to enslave. Instead of improving in candor 
by the inward sense of its own defects, that very conscious- 
ness makes him less tolerant of the defects of others, and 
more suspicious of their apparent virtues. His charity in 
a warmer season having failed to bring him in that return 
of gratitude for which it was partly performed, and having 
never flowed from the genuine spring, is dried up. His 
friendships having been formed on worldly principles or 
interest, or ambition, or convivial hilarity, fail him. One 
must make some sacrifices to the world, is the prevailing 
language of the nominal Christian. " What will the world 
pay you for your sacrifices? " replies the real Christian. 
Though he finds that the world is insolvent, that it pays 
nothing of what is promised, for it cannot bestow what it 
does not possess — happiness; yet he continues to cling to 
it almost as confidently as if it had never disappointed him. 



IN RELIGION. 39 

Were we called upon to name the object under the sun 
which excites the deepest commiseration in the heart of 
Christian sensibility, which includes in itself the most 
affecting incongruities, which contains the sum and sub- 
stance of real human misery, we should not hesitate to say, 
AN IRRELIGIOUS OLD AGE. The mcrc debility of declining 
years, even the hopelessness of decrepitude, in the pious, 
though they excite sympathy, yet it is the sympathy of 
tenderness unmixed with distress. We take and give com- 
fort from the cheering persuasion that the exhausted body 
will soon cease to clog its immortal companion; that the 
dim and failing eyes will soon open on a world of glory. 
Dare we paint the reverse of the picture? Dare we suffer 
the imagination to dwell on the opening prospects of hoary 
impiety.^ Dare we figure to ourselves that the weakness, 
the miseries, the terrors we are now commiserating, are 
ease, are peace, are happiness, compared with the unutter- 
able perspective? 

There is a fatal way of lulling the conscience by enter- 
taining diminishing thoughts of sins long since committed. 
We persuade ourselves to forget them, and we therefore 
persuade ourselves that they are not remembered by God. 
But though distance diminishes objects to the eye of the 
beholder, it does not actually lessen them. Their l-eal 
magnitude remains the same. Deliver us, merciful God! 
from the delusion of believing that secret sins, of which 
the world has no cognizance, early sins, which the world 
has forgotten, but which are known to " him with whom 
we have to do," become by secrecy and distance as if they 
had never been. "Are not these things noted in thy 
book? " Perhaps if we remember them, God may forget 
them, especially if our remembrance be such as to induce 
a sound repentance. If we remember them not, he assured- 
ly will. The holy contrition which should accompany this 
remembrance, while it w^ill not abate our humble trust in 
our compassionate Redeemer, will keep our conscience 
tender, and our heart watchful. 

We do not deny that there is frequently much kindness 
and urbanity, much benevolence and generosity, in men 
who do not even pretend to be religious. These qualities 
often flow from constitutional feeling, natural softness of 
temper, and warm afiections; often from an elegant educa- 
tion, that best human sweetener and polisher of social life. 
We feel a tender regret as we exclaim, " what a fine soil 
would such dispositions afford to plant religion in! " Well 



40 MISTAKES 

bred persons are accustomed to respect all the decorums 
of society, to connect inseparably the ideas of personal 
comfort with public esteem, of generosity with credit, of 
order with respectability. They have a keen sense of dis- 
honor, and are careful to avoid every thing that may bring 
the shadow of discredit on their name. Public opinion is 
the breath by which they live, the standard by which they 
act ; of course they would not lower by gross misconduct 
that standard on which their happiness depends. They 
have been taught to respect themselves; this they can do 
with more security while they can retain, on this half-way 
principle, the respect of others. 

In some who make further advances towards religion, we 
continue to see it in that same low degree which we have 
always observed. It is dwarfish and stunted, it makes no 
shoots. Though it gives some signs of life, it does not 
grow. By a tame and spiritless round, or rather by this 
fixed and immovable position, we rob ourselves of that 
fair reward of peace and joy which attends on an humble 
consciousness of progress; on the feeling of difficulties 
conquered; on a sense of the divine favor. That religion 
which is profitable, is commonly perceptible. Nothing 
supports a traveller in his Christian course, like the con- 
viction that he is getting on; like looking back on the 
country he has passed; and, above all, like the sense of 
that protection which has hitherto carried him on, and of 
that grace which has promised to support him to the end. 

The proper motion of the renewed heart is still directed 
upward. True religion is of an aspiring nature, continu- 
ally tending towards that Heaven from whence it was 
transplanted. Its top is high because its root is deep. It 
is watered by a perennial fountain ; in its most flourishing 
state it is always capable of further growth. Real good- 
ness proves itself to be such by a continual desire to be 
better. No virtue on earth is ever in a complete state. 
Whatever stage of religion any man has attained, if he be 
satisfied to rest in that stage, we would not call that man 
religious. The Gospel seems to consider the highest de- 
gree of goodness as the lowest with which a Christian 
ought to sit down satisfied. We cannot be said to be fin- 
ished in any Christian grace, because there is not one 
which may not be carried further than we have carried it. 
This promotes the double purpose of keeping us humble 
as to our present stage, and of stimulating us to something 
higher which we may hope to attain. 



IM RELIGION. 41 

That superficial thing which by mere people of the 
world is dignified by the appellation of religion, though it 
brings just that degree of credit which makes part of the 
system of worldly Christians; neither brings comfort for 
this world, nor security for the next. Outward observan- 
ces, indispensable as they are, are not religion. They are 
the accessory but not the principal; they are important aids 
and adjuncts, but not the thing itself; they are its aliment 
but not its life, the fuel but not the flame, the scaffolding 
but not the edifice. Religion can no more subsist merely 
by them, than it can subsist without them. They are di- 
vinely appointed, and must be conscientiously ^observed; 
but observed as a means to promote an end, and not as an 
end in themselves. 

The heartless homage of formal worship, where the liv- 
ing- power does not give life to the form, the cold compli- 
ment of ceremonial attendance, without the animating prin- 
ciple, as it will not bring peace to our own mind, so neither 
will it satisfy a jealous God. That God whose eye is on 
the heart, " who trieth the reins and searcheth the spirits," 
will not be satisfied that we make him little more than a 
nominal deity, while the world is the real object of our 
worship. Such persons seem to have almost the whole 
body of performance ; all they want is the soul. They are 
constant in their devotions, but the heart, which even the 
heathens esteemed the best part of the sacrifice, they keep 
away. They read the Scriptures, but rest in the letter, in- 
stead of trying themselves by its spirit. They consider it 
as an enjoined task, but not as the quick and powerful 
instrument put into their hands for the critical dissection of 
" piercing and dividing asunder the soul and spirit;" not 
as the penetrating " discerner of the thoughts and intents 
of the heart." These well-intentioned persons seem to 
spend no inconsiderable portion of time in religious exer- 
cises, and yet complain that they make little pi ogress. 
They almost seem to insinuate, as if the Almighty did not 
keep his word with them, and manifest that religion to them 
is not " pleasantness," nor her " paths peace." 

Of such may we not ask, Would you not do better to 
examine than to complain? to inquire whether you do in- 
deed possess a heart which, notwithstanding its imperfec- 
tions, is sincerely devoted to God? He who does not 
desire to be perfect is not sincere. Would you not do well 
to convince yourselves that God is not unfaithful? that his 
promises do not fail, that his goodness is not slackened ? 



42 MISTAKES 

May you not be entertaining some secret infidelity, practi- 
sing some latent disobedience, withholding some part of 
your heart, neglecting to exercise that faith, subtracting 
something from that devotedness to which a Christian 
should engage himself, and to which the promises of God 
are annexed? Do you indulge no propensities contrary to 
his will ? do you never resist the dictates of his spirit, never 
shut your eyes to its illumination, nor your heart to its 
influences ? Do you not indulge some cherished sin which 
obscures the light of grace, some practice which obstructs 
the growth of virtue, some distrust which chills the warmth 
of love? the discovery will repay the search, and if you 
succeed in this scrutiny, let not the detection discourage 
but stimulate. 

If, then, you resolve to take up religion in earnest, espe- 
cially if you have actually adopted its customary forms, 
rest not in such low attainments as will afford neither pres- 
ent peace nor future happiness. To know Christianity 
only in its external forms, and its internal dissatisfactions, 
its superficial appearances without, and its disquieting ap- 
prehensions within, to be desirous of standing well with 
the world as a Christian, yet to be unsupported by a well- 
founded Christian hope, to depend for happiness on the 
opinion of men, instead of the favor of God, to go on 
dragging through the mere exercises of piety, without de- 
riving from them real strength, or solid peace: to live in the 
dread of being called an enthusiast, by outwardly exceed- 
ing in religion, and in secret consciousness of falling short 
of it, to be conformed to the world's view of Christianity, 
rather than to aspire to be transformed by the renewing of 
your mind, is a state not of pleasure but of penalty, not of 
conquest but of hopeless conflict, not of ingenuous love but 
of tormenting fear. It is knowing religion only as the 
captive in a foreign land knows the country in which he is 
a prisoner. He hears from the cheerful natives of its 
beauties, but is himself ignorant of every thing beyond 
his own gloomy limits. He hears of others as free and 
happy, but feels nothing himself but the rigors of incar- 
ceration. 

The Christian character is little understood by the vota- 
ries of the world; if it were, they would be struck with 
its grandeur. It is the very reverse of that meanness and 
pusillanimity, that abject spirit and those narrow views, 
which those who know it not ascribe to it. 

A Christian lives at the height of his being, not only 



IN RELIGION. 43 

at the top of his spiritual, but of his intellectual life. He 
alone lives in the full exercise of his rational powers. Re- 
ligion ennobles his reason while it enlarges it. 

Let, then, your soul act up to its high destination, let 
not that which was made to soar to heaven, grovel in the 
dust. Let it not live so much below itself. You wonder 
it is not more fixed, when it is perpetually resting on things 
which are not fixed themselves. In the rest of a Christian 
there is stability. Nothing can shake his confidence but 
sin. Outward attacks and troubles rather fix than un- 
settle him, as tempests from without only serve to root the 
oak faster, while an inward canker will gradually rot and 
decay it. 

These are only a i'ew of the mistakes among the multi- 
tude which might have been pointed out; but these are 
noticed as being of common and every day occurrence. 
The ineffectiveness of such a religion will be obvious. 

That religion which sinks Christianity into a mere con- 
formity to religious usages, must always fail of substantial 
effects. If sin be seated in the heart, if that be its home, 
that is the place in which it must be combatted. It is in 
vain to attack it in the suburbs when it is lodged in the 
centre. Mere forms can never expel that enemy which 
they can never reach. By a religion of decencies, our 
corruptions may perhaps be driven out of sight, but they 
will never be driven out of possession. If they are expel- 
led from their outworks, they will retreat to their citadel. 
If they do not appear in the grosser forms prohibited by 
the Decalogue, still they will exist. The shape may be 
altered but the principle will remain. They will exist in the 
spiritual modification of the same sins equally forbidden by 
the Divine Expositor. He who dares not be revengeful, 
will be unforgiving. He who ventures not to break the 
letter of the seventh commandment in act, will violate it in 
the spirit. He who has not courage to forfeit Heaven by 
profligacy, will scale it by pride, or forfeit it by unprofit- 
ableness. 

It is not any vain hope built on some external privilege 
or performance on the one hand, nor a prjsumptuous con- 
fidence that our names are written in the book of life, on 
the other, which can afford a reasonable ground of safety, 
but it is endeavoring to keep all the commandments of God 
— it is living to him who died for us — it is being conformed 
to his image as well as redeemed by his blood. This is 
Christian virtue, this is the holiness of a believer. A lower 



44 MISTAKES IN RELIGION. 

motive will produce a lower morality, but such an unsanc- 
tified morality God will not accept. 

For it will little avail us that Christ has died for us, that 
he has conquered sin, triumphed over the powers of dark- 
ness, and overcome the world, while any sin retains its 
unresisted dominion in our hearts, while the world is our 
idol, while our fostered corruptions cause us to prefer 
darkness to light. We must not persuade ourselves that 
we are reconciled to God while our rebellious hearts are not 
reconciled to goodness. 

It is not casting a set of opinions into a mould, and a set 
of duties into a system, which constitutes the Christian 
religion. The circumference must have a centre, the body 
must have a soul, the performances must have a principle. 
Outward observances were wisely constituted to rouse our 
forgetfulness, to awaken our secular spirits, to call back 
our negligent hearts; but it was never intended that we 
should stop short in the use of them. They were designed 
to excite holy thoughts, to quicken us to holy deeds, but 
not to be used as equivalents for either. But we find it 
cheaper to serve God in a multitude of exterior acts, than 
to starve one interior corruption. 

Nothing short of that uniform stable principle, that fixed- 
ness in religion which directs a man in all his actions, aims, 
and pursuits, to God as his ultimate end, can give consist- 
ency to his conduct or tranquillity to his soul. This state 
once attained, he will not waste all his thoughts and designs 
upon the world; he will not lavish all his affections on so 
poor a thing as his own advancement. He will desire to 
devote all to the only object worthy of them, to God. Our 
Saviour has taken care to provide that our ideas of glorify- 
ing him, may not run out into fanciful chimeras or subtle 
inventions, i3y simply stating — "herein is my Father 

GLORIFIED, THAT YE BEAR MUCH FRUIT." This he gOCS 

on to inform us is the true evidence of our being of the 
number of his people, by adding — " So shall ye be my 
disciples." 



PERIODICAL RELIGION. 45 

CHAP. IV. 

Periodical Religion. 

We deceive ourselves not a little, when we fancy that 
what is emphatically called the ivorld, is only to be found in 
this or that situation. The world is every where. It is a 
nature as well as a place; a principle as well as a " local 
habitation and a name," Though the principle and the 
nature flourish most in those haunts which are their con- 
genial soil, yet we are too ready, when we withdraw from 
the world abroad to bring it home, to lodge it in our own 
bosom. The natural heart is both its temple and its wor- 
shipper. 

But the most devoted idolater of the world, with all the 
capacity and industry which he may have applied to the 
subject, has never yet been able to accomplish the grand 
design of uniting the interests of heaven and earth. This 
experiment, wliich has been more assiduously and more 
frequently tried, than that of the philosopher for the 
grand Hermetic secret, has been tried with about the same 
degree of success. The most laborious process of the 
spiritual chemist, to reconcile religion with the world, has 
never yet been competent to make the contending princi- 
ples coalesce. 

But to drop metaphor. Religion was never yet thor- 
oughly relished by a heart full of the world. The world 
in return cannot be completely enjoyed where there is just 
religion enough to disturb its false peace. In such minds 
heaven and earth ruin each other's enjoyments. 

There is a religion which is too sincere for hypocrisy, 
but too transient to be profitable; too superficial to reach 
the heart, too unproductive to proceed from it. It is slight, 
but not false. It has discernment enoush to distinguish 
sin, but not firmness enough to oppose it; compunction 
sufficient to soften the heart, but not vigor sufficient to 
reform it. It laments when it does wrong, and performs 
all the functions of repentance of sin, except forsaking it. 
It has every thing of devotion except the stability, and 
gives every thing to religion except the heart. This is a 
religion of times, events, and circumstances; it is brought 
into play by accidents, and dwindles away with the occa- 



46 PERIODICAL RELIGION. 

sion which called it out. Festivals and fasts which occur 
but seldom, are much observed, and it is to be feared be- 
cause they occur but seldom; while the great festival 
which comes every week, comes too often to be so re- 
spectfully treated. The piety of these people comes out 
much in sickness, but is apt to retreat again as recovery 
approaches. If they die, they are placed by their ad- 
mirers in the Saints' calendar; if they recover, they go 
back into the world they had renounced, and again sus- 
pend their amendment as often as death suspends his blow. 

There is another class whose views are still lower, who 
yet cannot so far shake off religion as to be easy without 
retaining its brief and stated forms, and who contrive to 
mix up these forms with a faith of a piece with their prac- 
tice. They blend their inconsistent works with a vague 
and unwarranted reliance on what the Saviour has done 
for them, and thus patch up a merit and a propitiation of 
their own — running the hazard of incurring the danger of 
punishment by their lives, and inventing a scheme to avert 
it by their creed. Rehgion never interferes with their 
pleasures except by the compliment of a short and occa- 
sional suspension. Having got through these periodical 
acts of devotion, they return to the same scenes of vanity 
and idleness which they had quitted for the temporary 
duty; forgetting that it was the very end of those acts of 
devotion to cure the vanity and to correct the idleness. 
Had the periodical observance answered its true design, it 
would have disinclined them to the pleasure instead of 
giving them a dispensation for its indulgence. Had they 
used the devout exercise in a right spirit, and improved it 
to its true end, it would have set the heart and life at 
work on all those pursuits which it was calculated to pro- 
mote. But their project has more ingenuity. By the sta- 
ted minutes they give to religion, they cheaply purchase a 
protection for the misemployment of the rest of their time. 
They make these periodical devotions a ^kind of spiritual 
insurance office, which is to make up to'the adventurers 
in pleasure, any loss or damage which they may sustain in 
its voyage. 

It is of these shallow devotions, these presumed equiva- 
lents for a new heart and a new life, that God declares by 
the prophet, that he is "weary." Though of his own 
express appointment, they become "an abomination" to 
him, as soon as the sign comes to be rested in for the 
thing signified. We Christians have " our new moons 



PERIODICAL RELIGION. 47 

and our sacrifices" under other names and other shapes; 
of which sacrifices, that is, of the spirit in which they are 
offered, the Almighty has said, " I cannot, away with 
them, they are iniquity." 

Now is this superficial devotion that "giving up our- 
selves not with our lips only, but with our lives," to our 
Maker, to which we solemnly pledge ourselves, at least 
once a week ^ Is consecrating an hour or two to public 
worship on the Sunday morning, making the Sabbath "a 
delight?" Is desecrating the rest of the day, by " doing 
our own ways, finding our own pleasure, speaking our 
own words," making it " honorable.'^" 

Sometimes in an awakening sermon, these periodical 
religionists hear, with awe and terror, of the hour of death 
and the day of judgment. Their hearts are penetrated 
with- the solemn sounds. They confess the awful realities 
by the impression they make on their own feelings. The 
sermon ends, and with it the serious reflections it excited. 
While they listen to these things, especially if the preach- 
er be alarming, they are all in all to them. They return 
to the world — and these things are as if they were not ; as 
if they had never been; as if their reality lasted only 
while they were preached; as if their existence depended 
only on their being heard; as if truth were no longer truth 
than while it solicited their notice; as if there were as little 
stability in religion itself as in their attention to it. As 
soon as their minds are disengaged from the question, one 
would think that death and judgment were an invention, 
that heaven and hell were blotted from existence, that 
eternity ceased to be eternity, in the long intervals in 
which they cease to be the object of their consideration. 

This is the natural effect of what we venture to denomi- 
nate periodical religion. It is a transient homage kept 
totally distinct and separate from the rest of our lives, 
instead of its being made the prelude and the principle of 
a course of pious practice; instead of our weaving our 
devotions and our actions into one uniform tissue by doing 
all in one spirit and to one end. When worshippers of 
this description pray for " a clean heart and a right spirit," 
when they beg of God to " turn away their eyes from be- 
holding vanity," is it not to be feared that they pray to be 
made what they resolve never to become, that they would 
be very unwilling to become as good as they pray to be 
made, and would bo sorry to be as penitent as they pro- 
fess to desire.'* But alas! they are in little danger of be- 



48 PERIODICAL RELIGION. 

ing taken at their word ; there is too much reason to fear 
their petitions will not be heard or answered; for prayer 
for the pardon of sin will obtain no pardon while we retain 
the sin in hope that the prayer will be accepted without 
the renunciation. 

The most solemn office of our religion, the sacred me- 
morial of the death of its author, the blessed injunction 
and tender testimony of his dying love, the consolation 
of the humble beUever, the gracious appointment for 
strengthening his faith, quickening his repentance, awak- 
ening his gratitude and kindling his charity, is too often 
resorted to on the same erroneous principle. He who 
ventures to live without the use of this holy institution, 
lives in a state of disobedience to the last appointment of 
his Redeemer. He who rests in it as a means for supply- 
ing the place of habitual piety, totally mistakes its design, 
and is fatally deceiving his own soul. 

This awful solemnity is, it is to be hoped, rarely fre- 
quented even by this class of Christians, without a desire 
of approaching it with the pious feelings above described. 
But if they carry them to the altar, are they equally anx- 
ious to carry them away from it, are they anxious to main- 
tain them after it? Does the rite so seriously approached, 
commonly leave any vestige of seriousness behind it? 
Are they careful to perpetuate the feelings they were so 
desirous to excite ? Do they strive to make them produce 
solid and substantial effects ? — Would that this inconstan- 
cy of mind were to be found only in the class of characters 
under consideration! Let the reader, however sincere in 
his desires, let the writer, however ready to lament the 
levity of others, seriously ask their own hearts if they can 
entirely acquit themselves of the inconsistency they are so 
forward to blame ? If they do not find the charge brought 
against others but too applicable to themselves? 

Irreverence antecedent to, or during, this sacred solem- 
nity, is far more rare than durable improvement after it. 
If there are, as we are willing to believe, none so profane 
as to violate the act, except those who impiously use it 
only as " a picklock to a place," there are too few who 
make it lastingly beneficial. Few so thoughtless as not 
to approach it with resolutions of amendment ; few com- 
paratively who carry those resolutions into effect. Fear 
operates in the previous instance. Why should not love 
operate in that which is subsequent? 

A periodical religion is accompanied with a periodical 



PERIODICAL RELIGION. 49 

repentance This species of repentance is adopted with 
no small mental reservation. It is partial and disconnect- 
ed. These fragments of contrition, these broken parcels 
of penitence — while a succession of worldly pursuits is not 
only resorted to, but is intended to be resorted to, during 
the whole of the intervening spaces — is not that sorrow 
which the Almighty has promised to accept. To render it 
pleasing to God and efficacious to ourselves, there must 
be an agreement in the parts, an entireness in the whole 
web of life. There must be an integral repentance. A 
quarterly contrition in the four weeks preceding the sacred 
seasons, will not wipe out the daily offences, the hourly 
negligences, of the whole sinful year. Sins half forsaken 
through fear, and half retained through partially resisted 
temptation and partially adopted resolution, make up but 
an unprofitable piety. 

In the bosom of these professors there is a perpetual 
conflict between fear and inclination. In conversation 
you will generally find them very warm in the cause of 
religion; but it is religion as opposed to infidelity, not as 
opposed to worldly mindedness. They defend the worship 
of God, but desire to be excused from his service. Their 
heart is the slave of the world, but their blindness hides 
from them the turpitude of that world. They commend 
piety, but dread its requisitions. They allow that repent- 
ance is necessary, but then how easy is it to find reasons 
for deferring a necessary evil ? IVIio will hastily adopt a 
painful measure which he can find a creditable pretence 
tor evading ? They censure whatever is ostensibly wrong, 
but avoiding only part of it, the part they retain robs them 
of the benefits of their partial renunciation. 

We cannot sufficiently admire the wisdom of the church 
in enjoining extraordinary acts of devotion at the return of 
those festivals so happily calculated to excite devotional 
feelings. Extraordinary repentance of sin is peculiarly 
suitable to the seasons that record those grand events which 
sin occasioned. But the church never intended that these 
more stated and strict self-examinations should preclude 
our habitual self-inspection. It never intended its holy 
offices to supply the place of general holiness, but to pro- 
mote it. It intended that these solemn occasions should 
animate the flame of piety, but it never meant to furnish a 
reason for neglecting to keep the flame alive till the next 
return should again kindle the dying embers. It meant 
that everv such season should gladden the heart of the 



50 PERIODICAL RELIGION. 

Christian at its approach, and not discharge him from duty 
at its departure. It meant to lighten his conscience of the 
burden of sin, not to encourage him to begin a new score, 
again to be wiped off at the succeeding festival. It in- 
tended to quicken the vigilance of the believer, and not to 
dismiss the sentinel from his post. If we are not the better 
for these divinely appointed helps, we are the worse. If 
we use them as a discharge from that diligence which they 
were intended to promote, we convert our blessings into 
snares. 

This abuse of our advantages arises from our not incor- 
porating our devotions into the general habit of our lives. 
Till our religion become an inward principle, and not an 
external act, we shall not receive that benefit from her 
forms, however excellent, which they are calculated to 
convey. It is to those who possess the spirit of Chris- 
tianity that her forms are so valuable. To them the form 
excites the spirit, as the spirit animates the form. Till 
religion become the desire of our hearts, it will not become 
the business of our lives. We are far from meaning that 
it is to be its actual occupation; but that every portion, 
every habit, every act of life is to be animated by its spirit, 
influenced by its principle, governed by its power. 

The very make of our nature, and our necessary com- 
merce with the world, naturally fill our hearts and minds 
with thoughts and ideas, over which we have unhappily too 
little control. We find this to be the case when in our 
better hours we attempt to give ourselves up to serious 
reflection. How many intrusions of worldly thoughts, 
how many impertinent imaginations, not only irrelevant, 
but uncalled and unwelcome, crowd in upon the mind so 
forcibly as scarcely to be repelled by our sincerest efforts. 
How impotent then to repel such images must that mind 
be, which is devoted to worldly pursuits, which yields 
itself up to them, whose opinions, habits, and conduct are 
under their allowed influence! 

If, as we have before observed, religion consists in anew 
heart and a new spirit, it will become not our occasional 
act, but our abiding disposition, proving its settled exist- 
ence in the mind by its habitually disposing our thoughts 
and actions, our devotions and our practice, to a conformity 
to each other and to itself. 

Let us not consider a spirit of worldiiness as a little 
infirmity, as a natural and therefore a pardonable weak- 
ness; as a trifling error which will be overlooked for the 



PERIODICAL RELIGION. 5J 

sake of our many good qualities. It is in fact the essence 
of our other faults; the temper that stands between us and 
our salvation; the spirit which is in direct opposition to the 
spirit of God. Individual sins may more easily be cured, 
but this is the principle of all spiritual disease. A worldly 
spirit where it is rooted and cherished, runs through the 
whole character, insinuates itself in all we say and think 
and do. It is this which makes us so dead in religion, so 
averse from spiritual things, so forgetful of God, so unmind- 
ful of eternity, so satisfied with ourselves, so impatient of 
serious discourse, and so alive to that vain and frivolous 
intercourse which excludes intellect almost as much as 
piety from our general conversation. 

It is not therefore our more considerable actions alone 
which require watching, for they seldom occur. They do 
not .form the habit of life in ourselves, nor the chief im- 
portance of our example to others. It is to our ordinary 
behavior, it is to our deportment in common life ; it is to 
our prevailing turn of mind in general intercourse, by 
which we shall profit or corrupt those with whom we asso- 
ciate. It is our conduct in social life which will help to 
diffuse a spirit of piety or a distaste to it. If we have much 
influence, this is the place in which particularly to exert it. 
If we have little, we have still enough to infect the temper 
and lower the tone of our narrow society. 

If we really believe that it is the design of Christianity 
to raise us to a participation of the divine nature, the slight- 
est reflection on this elevation of our character would lead 
us to maintain its dignity in the ordinary intercourse of life. 
We should not so much inquire whether we are trans- 
gressing any actual prohibition, whether any standing law 
is pointed against us, as whether we are supporting the 
dignity of the Christian character; whether we are acting 
suitably to our profession ; whether more exactness in the 
common occurrences of the day, more correctness in our 
conversation, would not be such evidences of our religion, 
as by being obvious and intelligible, might not almost 
insensibly produce important effects. 

The most insignificant people must not through indolence 
and selfishness undervalue their own influence. Most per- 
sons have a little circle of which they are a sort of centre. 
Its smallness may lessen their quantity of good, but does 
not diminish the duty of using that little influence wisely. 
Where is the human Ix ing so inconsiderable but that he 
may in some shape benefit others, either by calling their 



52 PRAYER. 

virtues into exercise, or by setting them an example of vir- 
tue himself? But we are humble just in the wrong place. 
When the exhibition of our talents or splendid qualities is 
in question, we are not backward in the display. When 
a little self-denial is to be exercised, when a little good 
might be effected by our example, by our discreet manage- 
ment in company, by giving a better turn to conversation, 
then at once we grow wickedly modest. — " Such an insig- 
nificant creature as I am can do no good" — "Had I a 
higher rank or brighter talents, then indeed my influence 
might be exerted to some purpose." — Thus under the mask 
of diffidence, we justify our indolence; and let slip those 
lesser occasions of promoting rehgion, which if we all im- 
proved, how much might the condition of society be raised. 
The hackneyed interrogation, "What — must we be 
always talking about religion? " must have the hackneyed 
answer — Far from it. Talking about religion is not being 
religious. But we may bring the spirit of religion into 
company and keep it in perpetual operation when we do 
not professedly make it our subject. We may be constant- 
ly advancing its interests, we may without effort or- affecta- 
tion be giving an example of candor, of moderation, of 
humility ,°of forbearance. We may employ our influence 
by correcting falsehood, by checking levity, by discoura- 
ging calumny, by vindicating misrepresented merit, by 
countenancing every thing which has a good tendency — in 
short, by throwing our whole weight, be it great or small, 
into the right scale. 



CHAP. V. 

Prayer. 

Prayer is the application of want to him who only can 
relieve it; the voice of sin to him who can alone pardon it. 
It is the urgency of poverty, the prostration of humility, 
the fervency of penitence, the confidence of trust. It is 
not eloquence, but earnestness, not the definition of help- 
lessness, but the feeling of it; not figures of speech, but 
compunction of soul. It is the " Lord save us we perish" 
of drowning Peter; the cry of faith to the ear of mercy. 



PRAYER. 53 

Adoration is the noblest employment of created beings, 
confession the natural language of guilty creatures; grat- 
itude the spontaneous expression of pardoned sinners. 

Prayer is desire. It is not a conception of the mind, nor 
a mere effort of the intellect, nor an act of the memory; 
but an elevation of the soul towards its Maker; a pressing 
sense of our own ignorance and infirmity, a consciousness 
of the perfections of God, of his readiness to hear, of his 
power to help, of his willingness to save. 

It is not an emotion produced in the senses, nor an effect 
wrought by the imagination; but a determination of the 
will,. an effusion of the heart. 

Prayer is the guide to self knowledge, by prompting us 
to look after our sins in order to pray against them ; a mo- 
tive to vigilance, by teaching us to guard against those sins 
which, through self examination, we have been enabled to 
detect. 

Prayer is an act both of the understanding and of the 
heart. The understanding must apply itself to the knowl- 
edge of the divine perfections, or the heart will not be led 
to the adoration of them. It would not be a reasonable 
service, if the mind was excluded. It must be rational 
worship, or the human worshipper would not bring to the 
service the distinguishing faculty of his nature, which is 
reason. It must be spiritual worship, or it would want the 
distinctive quality to make it acceptable to Him, who has 
declared that He will be worshipped "in spirit and in 
truth." 

Prayer is right in itself as the most powerful means of 
resisting sin and advancing in holiness. It is above all 
right, as every thing is, which has the authority of Scrip- 
ture, the command of God and the example of Christ. 

There is a perfect consistency in all the ordinations of 
God; a perfect congruity in the whole scheme of his dis- 
pensations. If man were not a corrupt creature, such 
prayer as the gospel enjoins would not have been necessary. 
Had not prayer been an important means for curing those 
corruptions, a God of perfect wisdom would not have or- 
dered it. He would not have prohibited every thing which 
tends to inflame and promote them, had they not existed, 
nor would he have commanded every thing that has a ten- 
dency to diminish and remove them, "had not their existence 
been fatal. Prayer therefore is an indispensable part of 
his economy and of our obedience. 

It is a hackneyed objection to the use of prayer, that it is 



54 PRAYER. 

offending the omniscience of God to suppose he requires 
information of our wants. But no objection can be more 
futile. We do not pray to inform God of our wants, but 
to express our sense of the wants which he already knows. 
As he has not so much made his promise to our necessities, 
as to our requests, it is reasonable that our requests should 
be made, before we can hope that our necessities will be 
relieved. God does not promise to those who want that 
they shall " have," but to those who " ask;" nor to those 
who need that they shall "find," but to those who " seek." 
So far therefore from his previous knowledge of our wants 
being a ground of objection to prayer, it is in fact the true 
ground for our application. Were he not knowledge itself, 
our information would be of as little use, as our application 
would be, were he not goodness itself 

We cannot attain to a just notion of prayer, while we 
remain ignorant of our own nature, of the nature of God 
as revealed in Scripture, of our relation to him and depen- 
dence on him. If therefore we do not live in the daily 
study of the holy Scriptures, we shall want the highest 
motives to this duty and the best helps for performing it; 
if we do, the cogency of these motives, and the inestima- 
ble value of these helps, will render argument unnecessary 
and exhortation superfluous. 

One cause therefore of the dullness of many Christians 
in prayer, is, their slight acquaintance with the sacred vol- 
ume. They hear it periodically, they read it occasionally, 
they are contented to know it historically, to consider it 
superficially; but they do not endeavor to get their minds 
imbued with its Spirit. If they store their memory with 
its facts, they do not impress their hearts with its truths 
They do not regard it as the nutriment on which their spir- 
itual life and growth depend. They do not pray over it; 
they do not consider all its doctrines as of practical appli- 
cation; they do not cultivate that spiritual discernment 
which alone can enable them judiciously to appropriate its 
promises and its denunciations to their own actual case. 
They do not apply it as an unerring line to ascertain their 
own rectitude or obliquity. 

In our retirements, we too often fritter away our precious 
moments, moments rescued from the world, in trivial, 
sometimes it is to be feared, in corrupt thoughts. But if 
we must give the reins to our imagination, let us send this 
excursive faculty to range among great and noble objects. 
Let it stretch forward under the sanction of faith and the 



PRAYER. 55 

anticipation of prophecy, to the accomplishment of those 
glorious promises and tremendous threatenings which will 
soon be realized in the eternal world. These are topics 
which under the safe and sober guidance of Scripture, will 
fix its largest speculations and sustain its loftiest flights. 
The same Scripture while it expands and elevates the mind, 
will keep it subject to the dominion of truth; while at the 
same time it will teach it that its boldest excursions must 
fall infinitely short of the astonishing realities of a future 
state. 

Though we cannot pray with a too deep sense of sin, we 
may make our sins too exclusively the object of our prayers. 
While we keep, with a self abasing eye, our own corrup- 
tions in view, let us look with equal intentness on that 
mercy, which cleanseth from all sin. Let our prayers be 
all "humiliation, but let them not be all complaint. When 
men indulge no other thought but that they are rebels, the 
hopelessness of pardon hardens them into disloyalty. Let 
them look to the mercy of the king, as well as to the rebel- 
lion of the subject. If we contemplate his grace as 
displayed in the Gospel, then, though our humility will 
increase, our despair will vanish. Gratitude in this as in 
human instances will create affection. " W^e love him be- 
cause he first loved us." 

Let us then always keep our unworthiness in view as a 
reason why we stand in need of the mercy of God in 
Christ; but never plead it as a reason why we should not 
draw nigh to him to implore that mercy. The best men 
are unworthy for their own sakes; the worst on repentance 
will be accepted for his sake and through his merits. 

In prayer, then, the perfections of God, and especially 
his mercies in our redemption, should occupy our thoughts 
as much as our sins; our obligation to him as much as our 
departures from him. We should keep up in our hearts a 
constant sense of our own weakness, not v/ith a design to 
discourage the mind and depress the spirits; but with a 
view to drive us out of ourselves, in search of the divine 
assistance. We should contemplate our infirmity in order 
to draw us to look for his strength, and to seek that power 
from God which we vainly look for in ourselves: W^e do 
not tell a sick friend of his danger in order to grieve or 
terrify him, but to induce him to apply to his physician, 
and to have recourse to his remedy. 

Among the charges which have been l^rought against 
serious piety, one is, that it teaches men to despair. The 



56 PRAYER 

charge is just in one sense, as to the fact, but false in the 
sense intended. It teaches us to despair indeed of our- 
selves, while it inculcates that faith in a Redeemer, which 
is the true antidote to despair. Faith quickens the doubt- 
ing spirit v/hile it humbles the presumptuous. The lowly 
Christian takes comfort in the jjlessed promise, that God 
will never forsake them that are his. The presumptuous 
man is equally right in the doctrine, but wrong in applying 
it. He takes that comfort to himself which was meant for 
another class of characters. The mal-appropriation of 
Scripture promises and threatenings, is the cause of much 
error and delusion. 

Though some devout enthusiasts have fallen into error 
by an unnatural and impracticable disinterestedness, assert- 
ing that God is to be loved exclusively for himself with an 
absolute renunciation of any view of advantage to ourselves; 
yet that prayer cannot be mercenary, which involves God's 
glory with our own happiness, and makes his will the law 
of our requests. Though we are to desire the glory of 
God supremely; though this ought to be our grand actua- 
ting principle, yet he has graciously permitted, commanded, 
invited us, to attach our own happiness to this primary 
object. The bible exhibits not only a beautiful, but an 
inseparable combination of both, which delivers us from 
the danger of unnaturally renouncing our own benefit for 
the promotion of God's glory on the one hand; and on the 
other, from seeking any happiness independent of him, and 
underived from him. In enjoining us to love him supreme- 
ly, he has connected an unspeakable blessing with a para- 
mount duty, the highest privilege with the most positive 
command. 

What a triumph for the humble Christian, to be assured 
that " the high and lofty one which inhabiteth eternity," 
condescends at the same time to dwell in the heart of the 
contrite; in his heart! To know that God is the God of 
his life, to knoiv that he is even invited to take the Lord for 
his God. — To close with God's offers, to accept his invita- 
tions, to receive God as his portion, must surely be more 
pleasing to our heavenly Father, than separating our hap- 
piness from his glory. To disconnect our interests from 
his goodness, is at once to detract from his perfections, and 
to obscure the brightness of our own hopes. The declara- 
tions of inspired writers are confirmed by the authority of 
the heavenly hosts. They proclaim that the glory of God 
and ih.p happiness of his creatures, so far from interfering 



PRAYER. 57 

are connected with each other. We know but of one 
anthem composed and sung by angels, and this most har- 
moniously combines "the glory of God in the highest with 
peace on earth and good will to men." 

"The beauty of Scripture," says the great Saxon re- 
former, " consists in pronouns." This God is our God — 
God even our oiun God shall bless us — How delightful the 
appropriation! to glorify him as being in himself consum- 
mate excellence, and to love him from the feeling that this 
excellence is directed to our felicity! Here modesty would 
be ingratitude, disinterestedness rebellion. It would be 
severing ourselves from him, in whom we live, and move, 
and are; it would be dissolving the connection which he 
has condescended to establish between himself and his 
creatures. 

It has been justly observed, that the scripture saints 
make this union the chief ground of their grateful exulta- 
tion — "My strength," " mij rock," " wi/ fortress," " m?/ 
deliverer! " again, " let the God of my salvation be exalt- 
ed! " JSow take away the pronoun and substitute the 
article the, how comparatively cold is the impression! The 
consummation of the joy arises from the peculiarity, the 
intimacy, the endearment of the relation. 

Nor to the liberal Christian is the grateful joy diminished, 
when he blesses his God as " the God of all them that trust 
in him." All general blessings, will he say, all providen- 
tial mercies, are mine individually, are mine as completely, 
as if no other shared in the enjoyment. Life, light, the 
earth and heavens, the sun and stars, whatever sustains 
the body, and recreates the spirits! My obligation is as 
great as if the mercy had been made purely for me; as 
great.'' nay it is greater — it is augmented by a sense of the 
millions who participate in the blessing The same en- 
largement of the personal obligation holds good, nay rises 
higher in the mercies of Redemption. The Lord is my 
Saviour as completely as if he had redeemed only me. 
That he has redeemed " a great multitude which no man 
can number, of all nations and kindreds and people and 
tongues" is diffusion witliout abatement; it is general 
participation without individual diminution. Each has all. 

In adoring the Providence of God, we are apt to be 
struck with what is new and out of course, while we too 
much overlook long, habitual and uninterrupted mercies. 
But common mercies, if less striking are more valuable, 
both because we have them always, and for the reason 



58 PRAYER. 

above assigned, because others share them. The ordinary 
blessings of life are overlooked for the very reason that they 
ought to be most prized, because they are most uniformly 
bestowed. They are most essential to our support, and 
when once they are withdrawn we begin to find that they 
are also most essential to our comfort. Nothing raises the 
price of a blessing like its removal, whereas it was its con- 
tinuance which should have taught us its value. We 
ret^uire novelties, to awaken our gratitude, not considering 
that it is the duration of mercies which enhances their 
value. We want fresh excitements. We consider mer- 
cies long enjoyed as things of course, as things to which 
we have a sort of presumptive claim; as if God had no 
right to withdraw what he had once bestowed, as if he were 
obliged to continue what he has once been pleased to confer. 
But that the sun has shone unremittingly from the day 
that God created him, is not a less stupendous exertion of 
power than that the hand which fixed him in the heavens, 
and marked out his progress through them, once said by 
his servant, " Sun, stand thou still upon Gibeon." That 
he has gone on in his strength, driving his uninterrupted 
career, and " rejoicing as a giant to run his course," for 
six thousand years, is a more astonishing exhibition of Om- 
nipotence than that he should have been once suspended 
by the hand which set him in motion. That the ordinances 
of heaven, that the established laws of nature, should have 
been for one day interrupted to serve a particular occasion, 
is a less real wonder, and certainly a less substantial bless- 
ing, than that in such a multitude of ages they should have 
pursued their appointed course, for the comfort of the whole 
system: 

For ever singing, as they shine, 
* Tlie hand that made us is divine. 

As the afi'ections of the Christian ought to be set on 
things above, so it is for them that his prayers will be 
chiefly addressed. God in promising to " give those who 
delight in him the desire of their heart," could never mean 
temporal things, for these they might desire improperly as 
to the object, and inordinately as to the degree. The 
promise relates principally to spiritual blessings. He not 
only gives us these mercies, but the very desire to obtain 
them is also his gift. Here our prayer requires no quali- 
fying, no conditioning, no limitation. We cannot err in 
our choice, for God himself is the obiect of it; we cannot 



PRAYER 59 

exceed in the degree, unless it were possible to love him 
too well, or to please him too much. 

We should pray for worldly comforts, and for a blessing 
on our earthly plans, though lawful in themselves, condi- 
tionally, and with a reservation, because after having been 
earnest in our requests for them, it may happen that when 
we come to the petition, "thy will be done," we may in 
these very words be praying that our previous petitions 
may not be granted. In this brief request consist the vital 
principle, the essential spirit of prayer. God shows his 
munificence in encouraging us to ask most earnestly for 
the greatest things, by promising that the smaller '*' shall 
be added unto us." We therefore acknovv ledge his libe- 
rality most when we request the highest favors. He man- 
ifests his infinite superiority to earthly fathers by chiefly 
delighting to confer those spiritual gifts which they less 
solicitously desire for their children than those worldly 
advantages on which God sets so little value. 

Nothing short of a sincere devotedness to God, can 
enable us to maintain an equality of mind, under unequal 
circumstances. We murmur that we have not the things 
we ask amiss, not knowing that they are withheld by the 
same mercy by which the things that are good for us are 
granted. Things good in themselves may not be good for 
us. A resigned spirit is the proper disposition to prepare 
us for receiving mercies, or for having them denied. Re- 
signation of soul, like the allegiance of a good subject, is 
always in readiness though not in action; whereas an 
impatient mind is a spirit of disaffection, always prepared 
to revolt, when the will of the sovereign is in opposition to 
that of the subject. This seditious principle is the infal- 
lible characteristic of an unrenewed mind. 

A sincere love of God will make us thankful when our 
supplications are granted, and patient and ch~eerful when 
they are denied. He who feels his heart rise against any 
divine dispensation ought not to rest till by^ serious medita- 
tion and earnest prayer it be moulded into submission. An 
habit of acquiescence in the will of God, will so operate 
on the faculties of his mind, that even his judgment will 
embrace the conviction, that what he once so ardently 
desired, would not have been that good thing, which his 
blindness had conspired with his wishes to make him believe 
it to be. He will recollect the many mstances in which 
if his importunity had prevailed, the thing which ignorance 
re(]uested, nnd wisdom donied, would have insured his 



60 PRAYER. 

misery. Every fresh disappointment will teach him to dis- 
trust himself and to confide in God. Experience will 
instruct him that there may be a better way of hearing our 
requests than that of granting them. Happy for us that 
He to whom they are addressed knows which is best, and 
acts upon that knowledge. 

Still lift for good the supplicating voice, 

But leave to Heaven the measure and the choice; 

Imploie his aid, in his decisions rest. 

Secure whate'er he gives, he gives the best. 

We should endeavor to render our private devotions 
effectual remedies for our own particular sins. Prayer 
against sin in general is too indefinite to reach the individ- 
ual case. We must bring it home to our own heart, else 
we may be confessing another man's sins and overlooking 
our own. If we have any predominant fault, we should 
pray more especially against that fault. If we pray for any 
virtue of v/hich we particularly stand in need, we should 
dwell on our own deficiencies in that virtue, till our souls 
become deeply affected with our want of it. Our prayers 
should be circumstantial, not as was before observed for 
the information of Infinite Wisdom, but for the stirring up 
of our own dull affections. And as the recapitulation of 
our wants tends to keep up a sense of our dependence, the 
enlarging on our especial mercies will tend to keep alive 
a sense of gratitude. While indiscriminate petitions, con- 
fessions, and thanksgivings, leave the mind to wander in 
indefinite devotion and unaffecting generalities, without 
personality and without appropriation. It must be obvious 
that we except those grand universal points in which all 
have an equal interest, and Mdiich must always form the 
essence of public prayer. 

On the blessing attending importunity in prayer, the 
Gospel is abundantly explicit. God perhaps delays to give, 
that we may persevere in asking. He may require impor- 
tunity for our own sakes, that the frequency and urgency 
of the petition may bring our hearts into that frame to 
Avhich he will be favorable. 

As we ought to live in a spirit of obedience to his com- 
mands, so we should live in a frame of waiting for his 
blessing on our prayers, and in a spirit of gratitude when 
we have obtained it. This is that " preparation of the 
heart " which would always keep us in a posture for duty. 
If we desert the duty hocause an immediate blessing does 



PRAYER. 61 

not visibly attend it, it shows that we do not serve God out 
of conscience, but selfishness; that we grudge expendino- 
on him that service which brings us in no immediate inte- 
rest. Though he grant not our petition, let us never be 
tempted to withdraw our application. 

Our reluctant devotions may remind us of the remark of 
a certain great political wit, who apologized for his late 
attendance in Parliament, by his being detained while a 
party of soldiers were dragging a volunteer to his duty. 
How many excuses do we find for not being in time ! How 
many apologies for brevity! How many evasions for neg- 
lect! How unwilling, too, often, are we to come into the 
divine presence, how reluctant to remain in it! Those 
hours which are least valuable for business, which are 
least seasonable for pleasure, we commonly give to reli- 
gion. Our energies which were so exerted in the society 
we have just quitted, are sunk as we approach the divine 
presence. Our hearts which were all alacrity in some friv- 
olous conversation, become cold and inanimate, as if it 
were the natural property of devotion to freeze the affec- 
tions. Our animal spirits which so readily performed their 
functions before, now slacken their vigor and lose their 
vivacity. The sluggish body sympathizes with the unwil- 
ling mind, and each promotes the deadness of the other; 
both are slow in listening to the call of duty ; both are soon 
weary in performing it. As prayer requires all the energies 
of the compound being of man, so we too often feel as if 
there were a conspiracy of body, soul, and spirit, to disin- 
cline and disqualify us for it. 

When the heart is once sincerely turned to religion, we 
need not, every time we pray, examine into every truth, 
and seek for conviction over and over again; but assume 
that those doctrines are true, the truth of which we have 
already proved. From a general and fixed impression of 
these principles, will result a taste, a disposedness, a love, 
so intimate, that the convictions of the understanding will 
become the affections of the heart. 

To be deeply impressed with a few fundamental truths, 
to digest them thoroughly, to meditate on them seriously, 
to pray over them fervently, to get them deeply rooted in 
the heart, will be more productive of faith and holiness, 
than to labor after variety, ingenuity or elegance. The 
indulgence of imagination will rather distract than edify. 
Searching after ingenious thoughts will rather divert the 
attention from God to ourselves, than promote fixedness of 



6*2 PRAYER. 

thought, singleness of intention, and devotedness of spirit. 
Whatever is subtile and refined, is in danger of being un- 
scriptural. If we do not guard the mind it will learn to 
wander in quest of novelties. It will learn to set more 
value on original thoughts than devout affections. It is 
the business of prayer to cast down imaginations which 
gratify the natural activity of the mind, while they leave 
the heart unhumbled. 

We should confine ourselves to the present business of 
the present moment; we should keep the mind in a state 
of perpetual dependence; we should entertain no long 
views. " Now is the accepted time." " To-day we must 
hear his voice." "Give us this day our daily bread." 
The manna will not keep till to-morrow: to-morrow will 
have its own wants, and must have its own petitions. To- 
morrow we must seek the bread of heaven afresh. 

We should however avoid coming to our devotions with 
unfurnished minds. We should be always laying in mate- 
rials for prayer, by a diligent course of serious reading, by 
treasuring up m our minds the most important truths. If 
we rush into the divine presence with a vacant or ignorant 
or unprepared mind, with a heart full of the world ; as we 
shall feel no disposition or qualification for the work we are 
about to engage in, so we cannot expect that our petitions 
will be heard or granted. There must be some congruity 
between the heart and the object, some affinity between 
the state of our minds and the business in which they are 
employed, if we would expect success in the work. 

We are often deceived both as to the principle and the 
effect of our prayers. When, from some external cause, 
the heart is glad, the spirits light, the thoughts ready, the 
tongue voluble, a kind of spontaneous eloquence is the 
result; with this we are pleased, and this ready flow we 
are willing to impose on ourselves for piety. 

On the other hand when the mind is dejected, the animal 
spirits low, the thoughts confused; when apposite words 
do not readily present themselves, we are apt to accuse 
our hearts of want of fervor, to lament our weakness and 
to mourn that because we have had no pleasure in praying, 
our prayers have, therefore, not ascended to the throne of 
mercy. In both cases we perhaps judge ourselves unfairly. 
These unready accents, these faltering praises, these ill- 
expressed petitions, may find more acceptance than the 
florid talk with which we were so well satisfied: The latter 
consisted it may be of shining thoughts, floating on the 



CULTIVATIOxN OF A DEVOTIONAL SPIRIT. 63 

fancy, eloquent words dwelling only on the lips; the former 
was the sighing of a contrite heart, abased by the feel- 
ing of its own iinworthiness, and awed by the perfections 
of a holy and heart-searching God. The heart is dissat- 
isfied with its own dull and tasteless repetitions, which, 
with all their imperfections, infinite goodness may perhaps 
hear with favor. * We may not only be elated with the 
fluency, but even with the fervency of our prayers. Van- 
ity may grow out of the very act of renouncing it, and we 
may begin to feel proud at having humbled ourselves so 
eloquently. 

There is however a strain and spirit of prayer equally 
distinct from that facility and copiousness for which we 
certainly are never the better in the sight of God, and from 
that constraint and dryness for which we may be never 
the worse. There is a simple, solid, pious strain of prayer, 
in which the supplicant is so filled and occupied with a 
sense of his own dependence, and of the importance of 
the things for which he asks, and so persuaded of the power 
and grace of God through Christ to give him those things, 
that while he is engaged in it, he does not merely imagine, 
but feels assured that God is nigh to him as a reconciled 
Father, so that every burden and doubt are taken off from 
his mind. "He knows," as St. John expresses it, "that 
he has the petitions he desired of God," and feels the truth 
of that promise, " while they are yet speaking I will hear " 
This is the perfection of prayer. 



CHAP. VI. 

Cultivation of a Devotional Spirit. 

To maintain a devotional Spirit, tv/o things are especially 
necessary — habitually to cuUivate the disposition, and ha- 
bitually to avoid whatever is unfavorable to it. Frequent 
retirement and recollection are indispensable, together 

* Of these sort of repetitions, our admirable Church Liturgy has been 
accused as a fault; but this defect, if it be one, happily accommodates itself 
to our infirmities. Where is the favored being whose attention never wan- 
ders, whose heart accompanies his lips in every sentenced Is there no ab- 
sence of mind in the petitioner, no wandering of the ihoughls, no inconstancy 
of the heart, vviiich these repetitions are wisely calculated to correct, to 
rouse the dead attention, to bring back the strayed affections'? 



64 CULTIVATION OF 

with such a general course of reading, as, if it do not 
actually promote the spirit we are endeavoring to main- 
tain, shall never be hostile to it. We should avoid as 
much as in us lies all such society, all such amusements as 
excite tempers, which it is the daily business of a Chris- 
tian to subdue, and all those feelings which it is his con- 
stant duty to suppress. 

And here may we venture to observe, that if some 
things which are apparently innocent, and do not assume 
an alarming aspect, or bear a dangerous character; things 
which the generality of decorous people affirm, (how truly 
we know not) to be safe for them; yet if we find that 
these things stir up in us improper propensities, if they 
awaken thoughts which ought not to be excited; if they 
abate our love for religious exercises, or infringe on our 
time for performing them; if they make spiritual concerns 
appear insipid, if they wind our heart a little more about 
the world; in short, if we have formerly found them injuri- 
ous to our own souls, then let no example or persuasion, 
no belief of their alleged innocence, no plea of their per- 
fect safety, tempt us to indulge in them. It matters little 
to our security what they are to others. Our business is 
with ourselves. Our responsibihty is on our own heads. 
Others cannot know the side on which we are assailable 
Let our own unbiassed judgment determine our opinion, 
let our own experience decide for our own conduct. 

In speaking of books, we cannot forbear noticing that 
very prevalent sort of reading, which is little less produc- 
tive of evil, little less prejudicial to moral and mental im- 
provement, than that which carries a more formidable ap- 
pearance. We cannot confine our censure to those more 
corrupt writings which deprave the heart, debauch the 
imagination, and poison the principles. Of these the tur- 
pitude is so obvious, that no caution on this head, it is 
presumed, can be necessary. But if justice forbids us to 
confound the insipid with the mischievous, the idle with the 
vicious, and the frivolous with the profligate, still we can 
only admit of shades, deep shades we allow, of difference. 
These works, if comparatively harmless, yet debase the 
taste, slacken the intellectual nerve, let down the under 
standing, set the fancy loose, and send it gadding among 
low and mean objects. They not only run away with the 
time which should be given to better things, but gradually 
destroy all taste for better things. They sink ihe mind to 
their own standard, and give it a sluggish reluctance, we 



A DEVOTIONAL SPIRIT 65 

had almost said, a moral incapacity for every thing above 
their level. The mind, by long habit of stooping, loses its 
erectness, and yields to its degradation. It becomes so 
low and narrow by the littleness of the things, which en- 
gage it, that it requires a painful effort to lill itself high 
enough, or to open itself wide enough, to embrace great 
and noble objects. The appetite is vitiated. Excess, in- 
stead of producing a surfeit, by weakening the digestion, 
only induces a loathing for stronger nourishment. The 
faculties which might have been expanding in works of 
science, or soaring in the contemplation of genius, become 
satisfied with the impertinences of the most ordinary fic- 
tion, lose their relish for the severity of truth, the elegance 
of taste, and the soberness of religion. Lulled in the tor- 
por of repose, the intellect dozes, and enjoys in its waking 

' All the wild trash of sleep, without the rest. 

In avoiding books which excite the passions, it would 
seem strange to include even some devotional works. 
Yet such as merely kindle warm feelings, are not always 
the safest. Let us rather prefer those, which, while they 
tend to raise a devotional spirit, awaken the affections 
without disordering them, which, while they elevate the 
desires, purify them; which show us our own nature, and 
lay open its corruptions. Such as show us the malignity 
of sin, the deceitfulness of our hearts, the feebleness of our 
best resolutions; such as teach us to pull off the mask 
from the fairest appearances, and discover every hiding 
place, where some lurking evil would conceal itself; such 
as show us not what we appear to others, but what we 
really are; such as co-operating with our interior feelings, 
and showing us our natural state, point out our absolute 
need of a Redeemer, lead us to seek to him for pardon, 
from a conviction that there is no other refuge, no other 
salvation. Let us be conversant with such writings as 
teach us that while we long to obtain the remission of our 
transgressions, we must not desire the remission of our 
duties. Let us seek for such a Saviour as will not only 
deliver us from the punishment of sin, but from its domin- 
ion also. 

And let us ever bear in mind, that the end of prayer is 
not answered when the prayer is finished. We should 
regard prayer as a means to a farther end. The act of 
prayer is not sufficient, we must cultivate a spirit of prayer. 
And though when the actual devotion is over, we cannot, 



66 CULTIVATION OF 

amid the distractions of company and business, always be 
thinking of heavenly things; yet the desire, the frame, 
the propensity, the willingness to return to them we must, 
however difficult, endeavor to maintain. 

The proper temper for prayer should precede the act. 
The disposition should be wrought in the mind before the 
exercise is begun. To bring a proud temper to an hum- 
ble prayer, a luxurious habit to a self-denying prayer, or 
a worldly disposition to a spiritually minded prayer, is a 
positive anomaly. A habit is more powerful than an act, 
and a previously indulged temper during the day will not, 
it is to be feared, be fully counteracted by the exercise of 
a few minutes devotion at night. 

Prayer is designed for a perpetual renovation of the mo- 
tives to virtue; if therefore the cause is not followed by its 
consequence, a consequence inevitable but for the impedi- 
ments we bring to it, we rob our nature of its highest priv- 
ilege, and run the danger of incurring a penalty where 
we are looking for a blessing. 

That the habitual tendency of the life should be the 
preparation for the stated prayer, is naturally suggested to 
us by our blessed Redeemer in his sermon on the Mount. 
He announced the precepts of holiness, and their corres- 
ponding beatitudes; he gave the spiritual exposition of the 
Law, the directions for almsgiving, the exhortation to 
love our enemies, nay the essence and spirit of the whole 
Decalogue, previous to his delivering his own divine 
prayer as a pattern for ours. Let us learn from this that 
the preparation of prayer is therefore to live in all those 
pursuits which we may safely beg of God to bless, and in 
a conflict with all those temptations into which we pray 
not to be led. 

If God be the centre to which our hearts are tending, 
every line in our lives must meet in Him. With this point 
in view, there will be a harmony between our prayers and 
our practice, a consistency between devotion and conduct, 
which will make every part turn to this one end, bear 
upon this one point. For the beauty of the Christian 
scheme consists not in parts, (however good in them- 
selves) which tend to separate views, and lead to different 
ends; but it arises from its being one entire, uniform, con- 
nected plan, " compacted of that which every joint suppli- 
eth," and of which all the parts terminate in this one 
grand ultimate point. 

The design of prayer, therefore, as we before observed, 



A DEVOTIONTAL SPIRIT. 67 

is not merely to make us devout while we are engaged in 
it, but that its odor may be difTused through all the inter- 
mediate spaces of the day, enter into all its occupations, 
duties, and tempers. Nor must its results be partial, or 
limited to easy and pleasant duties, but extend to such as 
are less alluring. When we pray, for instance, for our 
enemies, the prayer must be rendered practical, must be 
made a means of softening our spirit, and cooling our re- 
sentment toward them. If we deserve their enmity, the 
true spirit of prayer will put us upon endeavoring to cure 
the fault which has excited it. If we do not deserve it, it 
will put us on striving for a placable temper, and we shall 
endeavor not to let slip so favorable an occasion of culti- 
vating it. There is no such softener of animosity, no such 
soother of resentment, no such allayer of hatred, as sin- 
cere, cordial prayer. 

It is obvious, that the precept to pray without ceasing, 
can never mean to enjoin a continual course of actual 
prayer. But while it more directly enjoins us to embrace 
all proper occasions of performing this sacred duty, or 
rather of claiming this valuable privilege, so it plainly im- 
plies that we should try to ke<ep up constantly that sense 
of the divine presence which shall maintain the dispo- 
sition. In order to this, we should inure our minds to 
reflection; we should encourage serious thoughts. A good 
thought barely passing through the mind will make little 
impression on it. We must arrest it, constrain it to re- 
main with us, expand, amplify, and as it were, take it to 
pieces. It must be distinctly unfolded, and carefully ex- 
amined, or it will leave no precise idea; it must be fixed 
and incorporated, or it will produce no practical effect. 
We must not dismiss it till it has left some trace on the 
mind, till it has made some impression on the heart. 

On the other hand, if we give the reins to a loose un- 
governed fancy, at other times, if we abandon our minds 
to frivolous thoughts; if we fill them with corrupt images; 
if we cherish sensual ideas during the rest of the day, can 
we expect that none of these images will intrude, that none 
of these impressions will be revived, but that " the temple 
into which foul things" have been invited, will be cleansed 
at a given moment; that worldly thoughts will recede and 
give place at once, to pure and holy thoughts? Will that 
Spirit, grieved by impurity, or resisted by levity, return 
with his warm beams, and cheering influences, to the con- 
taminated mansion from which he has been driven out.'' Is 



68 CULTIVATION OF 

it wonderful if finding no entrance into a heart filled with 
vanity he should withdraw himself? — We cannot, in retir- 
ing into our closets, change our natures as we do our 
clothes. The disposition we carry thither will be likely to 
remain with us. We have no right to expect that a new 
temper will meet us at the door. We can only hope that 
the spirit we bring thither will be cherished and improved. 
It is not easy, rather it is not possible, to graft genuine 
devotion on a life of an opposite tendency ; nor can we 
delight ourselves regularly for a few stated moments, in 
that God whom we have not been serving during the day. 
We may, indeed, to quiet our conscience, take up the 
employment of prayer, but cannot take up the state of 
mind which will make the employment beneficial to our- 
selves, or the prayer acceptable to God, if all the previous 
day we have been careless of ourselves, and unmindful of 
our Maker. They will not pray differently from the rest of 
the world, who do not live differently. 

What a contradiction is it to lament the weakness, the 
misery, and the corruption of our nature, in our devotions, 
and then to rush into a life, though not perhaps of vice, 
yet of indulgences, calculated to increase that weakness, 
to inflame those corruptions, and to lead to that misery! 
There is either no meaning in our prayers, or no sense in 
our conduct. In the one we mock God, in the other we 
deceive ourselves. 

Will not he who keeps up an habitual intercourse with his 
Maker, who is vigilant in thought, self-denying in action, 
who strives to keep his heart from wrong desires, his mind 
from vain imaginations, and his lips from idle words, bring 
a more prepared spirit, a more collected mind, be more en- 
gaged, more penetrated, more present to the occasion? 
Will he not feel more delight in this devout exercise, reap 
more benefit from it, than he who lives at random, prays 
from custom, and who though he dares not intermit the 
form, is a stranger to its spirit. " O God my heart is 
ready," cannot be lawfully uttered by him who is no more 
prepared. 

We speak not here to the self-sufficient formalist, or the 
careless profligate. Among those whom we now take the 
liberty to address, are to be found, especially in the higher 
class of females, the amiable and the interesting, and in 
many respects, the virtuous and correct: Characters so 
engaging, so evidently made for better things, so capable 
of reaching high degrees of excellence, so formed to give 



A DEVOTIONAL SPIRIT. 69 

the tone to Christian practice, as well as to fashion; so 
calculated to give a beautiful impression of that religion 
which they profess, without sufficiently adorning; which 
they believe without fairly exemplifying; that we cannot 
forbear taking a tender interest in their welfare, we cannot 
forbear breathing a fervent prayer, that they may yet reach 
the elevation for which they were intended; that they may 
hold out a uniform and consistent pattern, of whatsoever 
things are pure, honest, just, lovely, and of good report!" 
This the Apostle goes on to intimate can only be done by 
THINKING ON THESE THINGS. Things Can only influence 
our practice as they engage our attention. Would not 
then a confirmed habit of serious thought tend to correct 
that inconsideration, which we are willing to hope, more 
than want of principle, lies at the bottom of the inconsist- 
ency, we are lamenting. 

If, as it is generally allowed, the great difficulty of our 
spiritual life is, to make the future predominate over the 
present, do we not by the conduct we are regretting, ag- 
gravate what it is in our power to diminish? Miscalcula- 
tion of the relative value of things, is one of the greatest 
errors of our moral life. We estimate them in an inverse 
proportion to their value, as well as to their duration: we 
lavish earnest and durable thoughts on things so trifling, 
that they deserve little regard, so brief that they " perish 
with the using," while we bestow only slight attention on 
things of infinite worth, only transient thoughts on things 
of eternal dtiration. 

Those who are so far conscientious as not to intermit a 
regular course of devotion, and who yet allow themselves 
at the same time to go on in a course of amusements, 
which excite a directly opposite spirit, are inconceivably 
augmenting their own difficulties. They are eagerly 
heaping up fuel in the day, on the fire which they intend to 
extinguish in the evening: they are voluntarily adding to 
the temptations, against which they mean to request 
grace to struggle. To acknowledge at the same time, 
that we find it hard to serve God as we ought, and 
yet to be systematically indulging habits, which must 
naturally increase the difficulty, makes our characters 
almost ridiculous, while it renders our duty almost im- 
practicable. 

While we make our way more difficult by those very 
indulgences with which we think to cheer and refresh it, 
the determined Christian becomes his own pioneer; he 



70 CULTIVATION OF 

makes his path easy by voluntarily clearing it of the ob- 
stacles which impede his progress. 

These habitual indulgences seem a contradiction to that 
obvious law, that one virtue always involves another; ibr 
we cannot labor after any grace, that of prayer for instance, 
without resisting whatever is opposite to it. If then we 
lament, that it is so hard to serve God, let us not by our 
conduct furnish arguments against ourselves; for, as if the 
difficulty were not great enough in itself, we are continu- 
ally heaping up mountains in our way, by indulging in such 
pursuits and passions, as make a small labor an insur- 
mountable one. 

But we may often judge better of our state by the result, 
than by the act of prayer. Our very defects, our coldness, 
deadness, wanderings, may leave more contrition on the 
soul, than the happiest turn of thought. The feeling of 
our wants, the confession of our sins, the acknowledgment 
of our dependence, the renunciation of ourselves, the sup- 
plication for mercy, the application to " the fountain opened 
for sin," the cordial entreaty for the aid of the Spirit, the 
relinquishment of our own will, resolutions of better obe- 
dience, petitions that these resolutions may be directed and 
sanctified, these are the subjects in which the supplicant 
should be engaged, by which his thoughts should be 
absorbed. Can they be so absorbed, if many of the inter- 
vening hours are paseed in pursuits of a totally different 
complexion? pursuits which raise the passions which we 
are seeking to allay ? Will the cherished vanities go at 
our bidding? Will the required dispositions come at our 
calling ? Do we find our tempers so obedient, our passions 
so obsequious in the other concerns of life? If not, what 
reason have we to expect their obsequiousness in this grand 
concern. We should therefore endeavor to believe as 
we pray, to think as we pray, to feel as we pray, and to 
act as we pray. Prayer must not be a solitary, indepen- 
dent exercise; but an exercise interwoven with many, and 
inseparably connected with that golden chain of Christian 
duties, of which, when so connected, it forms one of the 
most important links. 

Business however must have its period as well as devo- 
tion. We were sent into this world to act as well as to 
pray, active duties must be performed as well as devout 
exercises. Even relaxation must have its interval; only 
let us be careful that the indulgence of the one do not 
destroy the elTect of the other, that our pleasures do not 



A DEVOTIONAL SPIRIT. 71 

encroach on the time or deaden the sph-it of our devotions, 
let us be careful that our cares, occupations, and amuse- 
ments may be always such that we may not be afraid to 
implore the divine blessing on them; this is the criterion 
of their safety and of our duty. Let us endeavor that in 
each, in all, one continually growing sentiment and feeling 
of loving, serving, and pleasing God, maintain its predom- 
inant station in the heart. 

An additional reason why we should live in the perpetual 
use of prayer, seems to be, that our blessed Redeemer, 
after having given both the example and the command, 
while on earth, condescends still to be our unceasing in- 
tercessor in Heaven. Can we ever cease petitioning for 
ourselves, when we beheve that he never ceases interceding 
for us ? 

If we are so unhappy as now to find little pleasure in 
this holy exercise, that however is so far from being a 
reason for discontinuing it, that it affords the strongest ar- 
gument for perseverance. That which was at first a form, 
will become a pleasure; that which was a burden will be- 
come a privilege; that which we impose upon ourselves as 
a medicine, will become necessary as an aliment, and 
desirable as a gratification. That which is now short and 
superficial, will becom^e copious and solid. The chariot 
wheel is warmed by its own motion. Use will make that 
easy which was at first painful. That which is once become 
easy will soon be rendered pleasant. Instead of repining 
at the performance, we shall be unhappy at the omission. 
When a man recovering from sickness attempts to walk, 
he does not discontinue the exercise because he feels him- 
self weak, nor even because the effort is painful. He 
rather redoubles his exertion. It is from his perseverance 
that he looks for strength. An additional turn every day 
diminishes his repugnance, augments his vigor, improves 
his spirits. That effort which was submitted to because it 
was salutary, is continued because the feeling of renovated 
strength renders it delightful. 



72 THE LOVE OF GOD. 

CHAP. VII. 

The Love of God. 

Our love to God arises out of want. God's love to us 
out of fulness. Our indigence draws us to that power 
which can relieve, and to that goodness which can bless us. 
His overflowing love delights to make us partakers of the 
bounties he graciously imparts, not only in the gifts of his 
Providence, but in the richer communications of his grace. 
We can only be said to love God, when we endeavor to 
glorify him, when we desire a participation of his nature, 
when we study to imitate his perfections. 

We are sometimes inclined to suspect the love of God 
to us. We are too little suspicious of our want of love to 
him. Yet if we examine the case by evidence, as we 
should examine any common question, what real instances 
can we produce of our love to Him? What imaginable 
instance can we not produce of his love to us? If neglect, 
forgetfulness, ingratitude, disobedience, coldness in our 
affections, deadness in our duty, be evidences of our love 
to him, such evidences, but such only, we can abundantly 
allege. If life, and all the countless catalogue of mercies 
that makes life pleasant, be proofs of his love to us, these 
he has given us in hand; — if life eternal, if blessedness that 
knows no measure and no end, be proofs of love, these he 
has given us in promise — to the Christian, we had almost 
said, he has given them in possession. 

It must be an irksome thing to serve a master, whom we 
do not love ; a master whom we are compelled to obey, 
though we think his requisitions hard, and his commands 
unreasonable; under whose eye we know that we contin- 
ually live, though his presence is not only undelightful but 
formidable. 

Now every Christian must obey God, whether he love 
him or not; he must act always in his sight, whether he 
delight in him or not; and to a heart of any feeling, to a 
spirit of any liberality, nothing is so grating as constrained 
obedience. To love God, to serve him because we love 
him, is therefore no less our highest happiness, than our 
iPiOst bounden duty. Love makes all labor light. We 
«5erve with alacrity, where we love with cordiality. 

Where the heart is devoted to an object, we require not 



THE LOVE OF GOD. 75 

o be perpetually reminded of our obligations to obey hnn, 
hey present themselves spontaneously, we fulfil them 
readily, I had almost said, involuntarily ; we think not so 
much of the service as of the object. The principle which 
suggests the work inspires the pleasure; to neglect it, 
would be an injury to our feelings. The performance is 
the gratification. The omission is not more a pain to the 
conscience, than a wound to the affections. The implanta- 
tion of this vital root perpetuates virtuous practice, and 
secures internal peace. 

Though we cannot be always thinking of God, we may 
be always employed in his service. There must be inter- 
vals of our communion with him, but there must be no 
intermission of our attachment to him. The tender father 
who labors for his children, does not always employ his 
thoughts about them; he cannot be always conversing 
with them, or concerning them, yet he is always engaged 
in promoting their interests. His affection for them is an 
inwoven principle, of which he gives the most unequivocal 
evidence, by the assiduousness of his application in their 
service. 

" Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart," 
is the primary law of our religion. Yet how apt are we to 
complain that we cannot love God, that we cannot maintain 
a devout intercourse with him. But would God, who is all 
justice, have commanded that of which he knew we were 
mcapable? Would he who is all mercy have made our 
eternal happiness to depend on something which he knew 
was out of our power to perform, capriciously disqualifying 
us for the duty he had prescribed ? Would he have given 
the exhortation, and withheld the capacity? This would 
be to charge omniscience with folly, and infinite goodness 
with injustice — no, when he made duty and happiness 
inseparable, he neither made our duty impracticable, nor 
our happiness unattainable. But we are continually flying 
to false refuges, clinging to false holds, resting on false 
supports: as they are uncertain they disappoint us, as they 
are weak they fail us; but as they are numerous, when one 
fails, another presents itself Till they slip from under lis, 
we never suspect how much we rested upon them. Life 
glides away in a perpetual succession of these false depen- 
dencies and successive privations. 

There is, as we have elsewhere observed, a striking 
analogy between the natural and spiritual life: the weak- 
ness and helplessness of the Christian resemble those of 

4 



74 THE LOVE OF GOD. 

the infant; neither of them becomes strong, vigorous, and 
full grown at once, but through a long and often painful 
course. This keeps up a sense of dependence, and accus- 
toms us to lean on the hand which fosters us. There is 
in both conditions, an imperceptible chain of depending 
events, by which we are carried on insensibly to the vigor 
of maturity. The operation which is not always obvious, 
is always progressive. By attempting to walk alone, we 
discover our weakness, the experience of that weakness 
humbles us, and every fall drives us back to the sustaining 
hand, whose assistance we vainly flattered ourselves we no 
longer needed. 

In some halcyon moments we are willing to persuade 
ourselves that religion has made an entire conquest over 
our heart; that we have renounced the dominion of the 
world, have conquered our attachment to earthly things. 
We flatter ourselves that nothing can now again obstruct 
our entire submission. But we know not what spirit we 
are of We say this in the calm of repose and in the still- 
ness of the passions; when our path is smooth, our pros- 
pect smiling, danger distant, temptation absent; when we 
have many comforts and no trials. Suddenly, some loss, 
some disappointment, some privation, tears off" the mask, 
reveals us to ourselves. We at once discover, that though 
the smaller fibres and lesser roots which fasten us down to 
earth may have been loosened by preceding storms, yet 
our substantial hold on earth is not shaken, the tap root is 
not cut, we are yet fast rooted to the soil, and still stronger 
tempests must be sent to make us let go our hold. 

It might be useful to cultivate the habit of stating our 
own case as strongly to ourselves as if it were the case of 
another; to express in so many words, thoughts which are 
not apt to assume any specific or palpable form; thoughts 
which we avoid shaping into language, but slur over, gen- 
eralize, soften, and do away. How indignant, for instance, 
should we feel (though we ourselves make the complaint) 
to be told by others, that we do not love our maker and 
preserver. But let us put the question fairly to ourselves. 
Do we really love him? Do we love him with a supreme, 
nay, even with an equal affection? Is there no friend, no 
child, no reputation, no pleasure, no society, no possession 
which we do not prefer to him? It is easy to affirm in a 
general way that there is not. But let us particularize, 
individualize the question — bring it home to our own 
hearts in some actual instance, in some tangible shape. 



THE LOVE OF GOD. 75 

Let US commune with our own consciences, with our own 
feelings, with our own experience ; let us question point- 
edly, and answer honestly. Let us not be more ashamed 
to detect the fault, than to have been guilty of it. 

This then will commonly be the result. Let the friend, 
child, reputation, possession, pleasure be endangered, but 
especially let it be taken away by some stroke of Provi- 
dence. The scales fall from our eyes; we see, we feel, 
we acknowledge, with brokenness of heart, not only for 
our loss but for our sin, that though we did love God, yet 
we loved him not superlatively, and that we loved the 
blessing, threatened or resumed, still more. But this is 
one of the cases in which the goodness of God bringeth 
us to repentance. By the operation of his grace the re- 
sumption of the gift biings back the heart to the giver. 
The Almighty by his Spirit takes possession of the temple 
from which the idol is driven out: God is re-instated in his 
rights, and becomes the supreme and undisputed Lord of 
our reverential affection. 

There are three requisites to our proper enjoyment of 
every earthly blessing which God bestows on us— a thank 
ful reflection on the goodness of the giver, a deep sense 
of the unworthiness of the receiver, and a sober recollec- 
tion of the precarious tenure by which we hold it. The 
first would make us grateful, the second humble, the last 
moderate. 

But how seldom do we receive his favors in this spirit! 
As if religious gratitude were to be confined to the appointed 
days of public thanksgiving, how rarely in common society 
do we hear any recognition of Omnipotence even on those 
striking and heart-rejoicing occasions, when "with his 
own right hand, and with his glorious arm. He has gotten 
himself the victory! " Let us never detract from the 
merit of our valiant leaders, but rather honor them the 
more for this manifestation of divine power in their favor; 
but let us never lose sight of Him "who teacheth their 
hands to war, and their fingers to fight." Let us never 
forget that "He is the rock, that his work is perfect, and 
all his ways are judgment." 

How many seem to show not only their want of affiance 
in God, but that " he is not in all their thoughts," by their 
appearing to leave him entirely out of their concerns, by 
projecting their affairs without any reference to him, by 
setting out on the stock of their own unassisted wisdom, 
contriving and acting independently of God; expecting 



76 THE LOVE OF GOD. 

prosperity in the event, without seeking his dn-ection in the 
outset, and taking to themselves the whole honor of the 
success without any recognition of his hand! do they not 
thus virtually imitate what Sophocles makes his blustering 
Atheist* boast. " Let other men expect to conquer with 
the assistance of the gods^ I intend to gain honor without 
them." 

The Christian will rather rejoice to ascribe the glory of 
his prosperity to the same hand to which our own manly 
queen gladly ascribed her signal victory. When after the 
defeat of the Armada, impiously termed invincible, her 
enemies, in order to lower the value of her agency, alleged 
that the victory was not owing to her, but to God who had 
raised the storm, she heroically declared that the visible 
interference of God in her favor, was that part of the 
success from which she derived the truest honor. 

Incidents and occasions every day arise, which not only 
call on us to trust in God, but which furnish us with suita- 
ble occasions of vindicating, if I may presume to use the 
expression, the character and conduct of the Almighty in 
the government of human affairs; yet there is no duty 
which we perform with less alacrity. Strange, that we 
should treat the Lord of heaven and earth with less confi- 
dence than we exercise towards each other! That we 
should vindicate the honor of a common acquaintance 
with more zeal than that of our insulted maker and preser- 



ver 



If we hear a friend accused of any act of injustice, 
though we cannot bring any positive proof why he should 
be acquitted of this specific charge, yet we resent the injury 
offered to his character; we clear him of the individual 
allegation on the ground of his general conduct, inferring 
that, from the numerous instances we can produce of his 
rectitude on other occasions, he cannot be guilty of the 
alleged injustice. We reason from analogy, and in gen- 
eral we reason fairly. But when we presume to judge of 
the Most High, instead of vindicating his rectitude on the 
same grounds, under a providence seemingly severe; 
instead of reverting, as in the case of our friend, to the 
thousand instances we have formerly tasted of his kindness, 
instead of giving God the same credit we give to his err- 
ing creature, and inferring from his past goodness, that the 
present inexplicable dispensation must be consistent, though 

" Ajax. 



THE LOVE OF GOD. 77 

we cannot explain how, with his general character, we mu- 
tinously accuse him of inconsistency, nay of injustice. We 
admit virtually the most monstrous anomaly in the character 
of the perfect God. 

But what a clue has revelation furnished to the intricate 
labyrinth which seems to involve the conduct which we 
impiously question! It unrols the volume of divine Provi- 
dence, lays open the mysterious Map of infinite wisdom, 
throws a bright light on the darkest dispensations, vindi- 
cates the inequality of appearances, and points to that bles- 
sed region, where to all who have truly loved and served 
God, every apparent wrong shall be proved to have been 
unimpeachably right, every affliction a mercy, and the 
severest trials the choicest blessings. 

So blind has sin made us, that the glory of God is con- 
cealed from us, by the very means which, could we discern 
aright, would display it. That train of second causes, 
which he has so marvelously disposed, obstructs our view 
of himself. We are so filled with wonder at the immedi- 
ate effect, that our short sight penetrates not to the first 
cause. To see him as he is, is reserved to be the happi- 
ness of a better world. We shall then indeed " admire 
him in his Saints, and in all them that believe;" we shall 
see how necessary it was for those whose bliss is now so 
perfect, to have been poor, and despised, and oppressed. 
We shall see why the " ungodly were in such prosperity." 
Let us give God credit here, for what we shall then fully 
know; let us adore now, what we shall understand here- 
after. 

They who take up religion on a false ground will never 
adhere to it. If they adopt it merely for the peace and 
pleasantness it brings, they will desert it, as soon as they 
find their adherence to it will bring them into difficulty, 
distress, or discredit. It seldom answers, therefore, to 
attempt making proselytes by hanging out false colors. 
The Christian " endures as seeing him who is invisible." 
He who adopts religion, for the sake of immediate enjoy- 
ment, will not do a virtuous action that is disagreeable to 
himself; nor resist a temptation that is alluring, present 
pleasure being his motive. There is no sure basis for vir- 
tue but the love of God in Christ Jesus, and the bright 
reversion for which that love is pledged. Without this, as 
soon as the paths of piety become rough and thorny, we 
shall stray into pleasanter pastures. 

Religion however has her own peculiar advantages. In 



78 THE LOVE OF GOD, 

the transaction of all worldly affairs, there are many and 
great difficulties. There may be several ways out of which 
to choose. Men of the first understanding are not always 
certain which of these ways is the best. Persons of the 
deepest penetration are full of doubt and perplexity; their 
minds are undecided how to act, lest while they pursue 
one road, they may be neglecting another, which might 
better have conducted them to their proposed end. 

In religion the case is different, and, in this respect, 
easy. As a Christian can have but one object in view, he 
is also certain there is but one way of attaining it. Where 
there is but one end, it prevents all possibility of choosing 
wrong; where there is but one road, it takes away all per- 
plexity as to the course of pursuit. That we so often 
wander wide of the mark, is not from any want of plainness 
in the path, but from the perverseness of our will in not 
choosing it, from the indolence of our minds, in not follow- 
ing it up. 

In our attachments to earthly things, even the most in- 
nocent, there is always a danger of excess, but from this 
danger we are here perfectly exempt, for there is no possi- 
bility of excess in our love to that Being who has demanded 
the whole heart. This peremptory requisition cuts off all 
debate. Had God required only a portion, even were it a 
large portion, we might be puzzled in settling the quantum. 
We might be plotting how large a part we might venture 
to keep back without absolutely forfeiting our safety; we 
might be haggling for deductions, bargaining for abate- 
ments, and be perpetually compromising with our Maker. 
But the injunction is entire, the command is definite, the 
portion is unequivocal. Though it is so compressed in the 
expression, yet it is so expansive and ample in the measure; 
it is so distinct a claim, so imperative a requisition of all 
the faculties of the mind and strength; all the affections 
of the heart and soul; that there is not the least opening 
left for litigation; no place for any thing but absolute, un- 
reserved compliance. 

Every thing which relates to God is infinite. We must, 
therefore, while we keep our hearts humble, keep our aims 
high. Our highest services indeed are but finite, imper- 
fect. But as God is unlimited in goodness, he should have 
our unlimited love. The best we can offer is poor, but let 
us not withhold that best. He deserves incomparably 
more than we have to give. Let us not give him less than 
all. If he has ennobled our corrupt nature with spiritual 



THE LOV^E OF GOD. 79 

affections, let us not refuse their noblest aspirations, to 
their noblest object. Let him not behold us so prodigally- 
lavishing our atFections on the meanest of his bounties, as 
to have nothing left for himself. As the standard of every- 
thing in religion is high, let us endeavor to act in it with 
the highest intention of mind, with the largest use of our 
faculties. Let us obey him with the most intense love, 
adore him with the most fervent gratitude. Let us " praise 
him according to his excellent greatness." Let us serve 
him with all the strength of our capacity, with all the devo- 
tion of our will. 

Grace being a new principle added to our natural pow- 
ers, as it determines the desires to a higher object, so it 
adds vigor to their activity. We shall best prove its do- 
minion over us by desiring to exert ourselves in the cause 
of heaven with the same energy with which we once exert- 
ed ourselves in the cause of the world. The world was 
too little to fill our whole capacity. Scaliger lamented how 
much was lost because so fine a poet as Claudian, in his 
choice of a subject, wanted matter worthy of his talents; 
but it is the felicity of the Christian to have chosen a 
theme to which all the powers of his heart and of his under- 
standing will be found inadequate. It is the glory of reli- 
gion to supply an object worthy of the entire consecration 
of every power, faculty, and affection of an immaterial, 
immortal being. 



CHAP. vin. 

The hand of God to be acknoivledged in the daily circumstances 
of life. 

If we would indeed love God, let us " acquaint ourselves 
with him." The word of inspiration has assured us that 
there is no other way to " be at peace." As we cannot love 
an unknown God, so neither can we know him, or even 
approach toward that knowledge, but on the terms which 
he himself holds out to us; neither will he save us but in 
the method which he has himself prescribed. His very 
perfections, the just objects of our adoration, all stand ia 



80 THE HAND OF GOD, &C. 

the way of creatures so guilty. His justice is the flaming 
sword which excludes us from the paradise we have forfeit- 
ed. His purity is so opposed to our corruptions, his om- 
nipotence to our infirmity, his wisdom to our folly, that had 
we not to plead the great propitiation, those very attributes 
which are now our trust, would be our terror. The most 
opposite images of human conception, the widest extremes 
of human language, are used for the purpose of showing 
what God is to us, in our natural state, and what he is, 
under the Christian dispensation. The " consuming fire" 
is transformed into essential love. 

But as we cannot find out the Almighty to perfection, so 
we cannot love him with that pure flame, which animates 
glorified spirits. But there is a preliminary acquaintance 
with him, an initial love of him, for which he has furnished 
us with means by his works, by his word, and by his Spirit. 
Even in this weak and barren soil, some germs will shoot, 
some blossoms will open, of that celestial plant, which, 
watered by the dews of heaven, and ripened by the Sun 
of Righteousness, will, in a more genial clime, expand 
into the fulness of perfection, and bear immortal fruits in 
the paradise of God. 

A person of a cold phlegmatic temper, who laments that 
he wants that fervor in his love of the supreme Being, 
which is apparent in more ardent characters, may take 
comfort, if he find the same indifference respecting his 
worldly attachments. But if his affections are intense to- 
wards the perishable things of earth, while they are dead 
to such as are spiritual, it does not prove that he is destitute 
of passions, but only that they are not directed to the prop- 
er object. If, however, he love God with that measure of 
feeling, with which God has endowed him, he will not be 
punished or rewarded, because the stock is greater or 
smaller than that of some other of his fellow creatures. 

In those intervals, when our sense of divine things is 
weak and low, we must not give way to distrust, but warm 
our hearts with the recollection of our best moments. Our 
motives to love and gratitude are not now diminished, but 
our spiritual frame is lower, our natural spirits are weaker. 
Where there is languor there will be discouragements. 
But we must not desist. " Faint, yet pursuing," must be 
the Christian's motto. 

There is more merit, (if ever we dare apply so arrogant 
a word to our worthless efforts) in persevering under de- 
pression and discomfort, than in the happiest flow of devo- 



THE HAND OF GOD, StC. 81 

tion, when the tide of health and spirits runs high. Where 
there is less gratification, there is more disinterestedness. 
We ought to consider it as a cheering evidence, that our 
love may be equally pure though it is not equally fervent^ 
when we persist in serving our heavenly father with the 
same constancy, though it may please him to withdraw 
from us the same consolations. Perseverance may bring 
us to the very dispositions the absence of which we are 
lamenting — "O tarry thou the Lord's leisure, be strong 
and he shall comfort thy heart." 

We are too ready to imagine that we are religious be- 
cause we know something of religion. We appropriate to 
ourselves, the pious sentiments we read, and we talk as if 
the thoughts of other men's heads were really the feelings 
of our own hearts. But piety has not its seat in the mem- 
ory, but in the affections, for which however, the memory 
is an excellent purveyor, though a bad substitute. Instead 
of an undue elation of heart when vre peruse some of the 
Psalmist's beautiful effusions, we should feel a deep self- 
abasement at the reflection, that however our case may 
sometimes resemble his, yet how inapplicable to our hearts 
are the ardent expressions of his repentance, the overflow- 
ing of his gratitu.de, the depth of his submission, the entire- 
ness of his self-dedication, the fervor of his love. But he 
who indeed can once say with him, "Thou art my por- 
tion," will, like him, surrender himself unreservedly to his 
service. 

It is important that we never suffer our faith, any more 
than our love, to be depressed or elevated, by mistaking 
for its own operations, the rambhngs of a busy imagination. 
The steady principle of faith must not look for its charac- 
ter, to the vagaries of a mutable and fantastic fancy — La 
folic de la Ma'ison, as she has been well denominated. Faith 
which has once fixed her foot on the immutable rock of 
ages, fastened her firm eye on the cross, and stretched out 
her triumphant hand to seize the promised crown, will not 
suffer her stability to depend on this ever-shifting faculty; 
she will not be driven to despair by the blackest shades of 
its pencil, nor be betrayed into a careless security, by its 
most flattering and vivid colors. 

One cause of the fluctuations of our faith is, that we are 
too ready to judge the Almighty by our owrt low standard. 
We judge him not by his own declarations of what he is. 
and what he will do, but by our own feelings and practices. 
We ourselves are too little disposed to forgive those who 



82 THE HAND OF GOD, &C. 

have offended us. We therefore conclude, that God can- 
not pardon our offences. We suspect him to be implaca- 
ble, because we are apt to be so, and we are unwilling to 
believe that he can pass by injuries, because we find it so 
hard to do it. When we do forgive, it is grudgingly and 
superficially; we therefore infer that God cannot forgive 
freely and fully. We make a hypocritical distinction be- 
tween forgiving and forgetting injuries. God clears away 
the score when he grants the pardon. He does not only 
say, " thy sins and thy iniquities will I forgive," but " I 
will remember no more." 

We are disposed to urge the smallness of our offences, 
as a plea for their forgiveness; whereas God, to exhibit 
the boundlessness of his own mercy, has taught us to allege 
a plea directly contrary, " Lord, pardon my iniquity, for it 
is great."' To natural reason, this argument of David is 
most extraordinary. But while he felt that the greatness 
of his own iniquity left him no resource, but in the mercy 
of God, he felt that God's mercy was greater even than his 
own sin. What a large, what a magnificent idea, does it 
give us of the divine power and goodness, that the believer, 
instead of pleading the smallness of his own offences, as a 
motive for pardon, pleads only the abundance of the divine 
compassion! 

We are told that it is the duty of the Christian to " seek 
God." We assent to the truth of the proposition. Yet it 
would be less irksome to corrupt nature, in pursuit of this 
knowledge, to go a pilgrimage to distant lands, than to seek 
him within our own hearts. Our own heart is the true 
terra incognita ; aland more foreign and unknown to us, 
than the regions of the polar circle: Yet that heart is the 
place, in which an acquaintance with God must be sought. 
It is there we must worship him, if we would worship him 
in spirit and in truth. 

But, alas! the heart is not the home of a worldly man, it 
is scarcely the home of a Christian. If business and 
pleasure are the natural element of the generality ; a 
dreary vacuity, sloth, and insensibility, too often worse 
than both, disincline, disqualify too many Christians for the 
pursuit. 

I have observed, and I think I have heard others observe, 
that a common beggar had rather screen himself under the 
wall of a churchyard, if overtaken by a shower of rain, 
though the church doors stand invitingly open, than take 
shelter within it, while divine service is performing. It is 



TITE HAND OF GOD, &C, 83 

a less annoyance to him to be drenched with the storm, 
than to enjoy the convenience of a shelter and a seat, if 
he must enjoy them at the heavy price of listening to the 
sermon. 

While we condemn the beggar, let us look into our own 
hearts; happy if we cannot there detect somewhat of the 
same indolence, indisposedness, and distaste to serious 
things! Happy, if we do not find, that we prefer not only 
our pleasures and enjoyments, but, I had almost said, our 
very pains, and vexations, and inconveniences, to com- 
muning with our Maker! Happy, if we had not rather be 
absorbed in our petty cares, and little disturbances, pro- 
vided we can contrive to make them the means of occupy- 
ing our thoughts, filling up our minds, and drawing them 
away from that devout intercourse, which demands the 
liveliest exercise of our rational powers, the highest eleva- 
tion of our spiritual affections ! Is it not to be apprehended, 
that the dread of being driven to this sacred intercourse, 
is one grand cause of that activity, and restlessness, which 
sets the world in such perpetual motion ? 

Though we are ready to express a general sense of 
our confidence in Almighty goodness, yet what definite 
meaning do we annex to the expression? What practical 
evidences have we to produce, that we really do trust him? 
Does this trust deliver us from worldly anxiety ? Does it 
exonerate us from the same perturbation of spirits, which 
those endure, who make no such profession? Does it re- 
lieve the mind from doubt and distrust? Does it tranquil- 
lize the troubled heart, does it regulate its disorders, and 
compose its fluctuations? Does it soothe us under irrita- 
tion? Does it support us under trials? Does it fortify us 
against temptations? Does it lead us to repose a full con- 
fidence in that Being whom we profess to trust ? Does it 
produce in us "that work of righteousness which is peace," 
that effect of righteousness, which is " quietness and assur- 
ance for ever?" Do we commit ourselves and our con- 
cerns to God in word, or in reality? Does this implicit 
reliance sim.plify our desires? Does it induce us to credit 
the testimony of his word and the promises of his Gospel? 
Do we not even entertain some secret suspicions of his 
faithfulness and truth in our hearts, when we persuade 
others and try to persuade ourselves that we unreservedly 
trust him? 

In the preceding chapter we endeavored to illustrate our 
want of love to God by our not beino- as forward to vindi- 



84 THE HAND OF GOD, &C. 

catc the divine conduct as to justify that of an acquaintance. 
The same illustration may express our reluctance to trust 
in God. If a tried friend engage to do us a kindness, 
though he may not thmk it necessary to explain the partic- 
ular manner in which he intends to do it, we repose on his 
word. Assured of the result, we are neither very inquisi- 
tive about the mode nor the detail. But do we treat our 
Almighty Friend with the same liberal confidence? Are 
we not murmuring because we cannot see all the process 
of his administration, and follov/ his movements step by 
step? Do we wait the developement of his plan, in full 
assurance that the issue v/ill be ultimately good ? Do we 
trust that he is as abundantly willing as able, to do more 
for us than we can ask or think, if by our suspicions we 
do not offend him, if by our infidelity we do not provoke 
him? In short, do we not think ourselves utterly undone, 
Nvhen we have only but Providence to trust to? 

We are perhaps ready enough to acknowledge God in 
our mercies, nay, we confess him in the ordinary enjoy- 
ments of life. In some of these common mercies, as in a 
bright day, a refreshing shower, delightful scenery; a 
kind of sensitive pleasure, an hilarity of spirits, a sort of 
animal enjoyment, though of a refined nature, mixes itself 
with our devotional feelings; and though we confess and 
adore the bountiful Giver, we do it with a little mixture of 
self-complacency, and of human gratification, which he 
pardons and accepts. 

But we must look for him in scenes less animating, we 
must acknowledge him on occasions less exhilarating, less 
sensibly gratifying. It is not only in his promises that 
God manifests his mercy. His threatenings are proofs of 
the same compassionate love. He threatens, not to punish, 
but by the warning, to snatch from the punishment. 

We may also trace marks of his hand not only in the 
a\yful visitations of life, not only in the severer dispensa- 
tions of his Providence, but in vexations so trivial that we 
should hesitate to suspect that they are providential ap- 
pointments, did v/e not knov/ that our daily life is made up 
of unimportant circumstances rather than of great events. 
As they are however of sufficient importance to exercise 
the christian tempers and affections, we may trace the 
hand of our heavenly Father in those daily little disap- 
pointments, and hourly vexations, which occur even in the 
most prosperous state and which are inseparable from the 
condition of }iumanit\ Wo must traro that same bpne- 



THE HAND OF GOD, &C. 85 

ficent hand, secretly at work for our purification, our cor- 
rection, our weaning from life, in the imperfections and 
disagreeableness of those who may be about us, in the 
perverseness of those with whom we transact business, 
and in those interruptions which break in on our favorite 
engagements. 

We are perhaps too much addicted to our innocent 
delights, or we are too fond of our leisure, of our learned, 
even of our religious leisure. But while we say it is good 
for us to be here, the divine vision is withdrawn, and we 
are compelled to come down from the mount. Or, perhaps, 
we do not improve our retirement to the purposes for which 
it was granted, and to v/hich we had resolved to devote it, 
and our time is broken in upon to make us more sensible 
of its value. Or we feel a complacency in our leisure, a 
pride in our books; perhaps we feel proud of the good 
things we are intending to say, or meditating to write, or 
preparing to do. A check is necessary, yet it is given in 
a way almost imperceptible. The hand that gives it is 
unseen, is unsuspected, yet it is the same gracious hand 
which directs the more important events of life. An im- 
portunate application, a disqualifying, though not severe 
indisposition, a family avocation, a letter important to the 
writer, but unseasonable to us, breaks in on our projected 
privacy; calls us to a sacrifice of our inclination, to a 
renunciation of our own will. These incessant trials of 
temper, if well improved, may be more salutary to the 
mind, than the finest passage we had intended to read, or 
the sublimest sentiment we had fancied we should write. 

Instead then of going in search of great mortifications, 
as a certain class of pious writers recommend, let us 
cheerfully bear, and diligently improve these inferior trials 
which God prepares for us. Submission to a cross which 
he inflicts, to a disappointment which he sends, to a con- 
tradiction of our self-love, which he appoints, is a far bet- 
ter exercise, than great penances of our own choosing. 
Perpetual conquests over impatience, ill temper and self- 
will, indicate a better spirit than any self-imposed morti- 
fications. We may traverse oceans and scale mountains 
on uncommanded pilgrimages, without pleasing God; we 
may please him without any other exertion than by crossing 
our own will. 

Perhaps you had been busying your imagination with 
some projected scheme, not only lawful, but laudable. 
The design was radically good, but the supposed value of 



86 THE HAND OF GOD, &C. 

your own agency, might too much interfere, might a little 
taint the purity of your best intentions. The motives were 
so mixed that it was difficult to separate them. Sudden 
sickness obstructed the design. You naturally lament the 
failure, not perceiving that, however good the work might 
be for others, the sickness was better for yourself An 
act of charity was in your intention, but God saw that 
your soul required the exercise of a more difficult virtue; 
that humility and resignation, that the patience, acquies- 
cence, and contrition, of a sick bed, were more necessary 
for you. He accepts the meditated work as far as it was 
designed for his glory, but he calls his servant to other 
duties, which were more salutary for him, and of which 
the master was the better judge. He sets aside his work, 
and orders him to wait: the more difficult part of his task. 
As far as your motive was pure, you will receive the reward 
of your unperformed charity, though not the gratification 
of the performance. If it was not pure, you are rescued 
from the danger attending a right action performed on a 
worldly principle. You may be the better Christian, though 
one good deed is subtracted from your catalogue. 

By a life of activity and usefulness, you had perhaps 
attracted the public esteem. An animal activity had partly 
stimulated your exertions. The love of reputation begins 
to mix itself with your better motives. You do not, it is 
presumed, act entirely, or chiefly for human applause; but 
you are too sensible to it. It is a delicious poison which 
begins to infuse itself into your purest cup. You acknow- 
ledge indeed the sublimity of higher motives, but do you 
never feel that, separated from this accompaniment of self, 
they would be too abstracted, too speculative, and might 
become too little productive both of activity and of sensible 
gratification. You begin to feel the human incentive ne- 
cessary, and your spirits would flag if it were withdrawn. 

This sensibility to praise would gradually tarnish the 
purity of your best actions. He who sees your heart, as 
well as your works, mercifully snatches you from the perils 
of prosperity. Malice is awakened. Your most meritori- 
ous actions are ascribed to the most corrupt motives. You 
are attacked just where your character is least vulnerable. 
The enemies whom your success raised up, are raised up 
by God, less to punish than to save you. We are far from 
meaning that he can ever be the author of evil; he does 
not excite or approve the calumny, but he uses your cal- 
umniators as instruments of your purification. Your fame 



CHRISTIANITY UxNIVERSAL IN ITS REQUISITIONS. 87 

was too dear to you. It is a costly sacrifice, but God 
requires it. It must be offered up. You would gladly com- 
pound for any, for every other offering, but this is the 
offering he chooses: and while he graciously continues to 
employ you for his glory, he thus teaches you to renounce 
your own. He sends this trial as a test, by which you are 
to try yourself He thus instructs you not to abandon your 
Christian exertions, but to elevate the principle which in- 
spired them, to defecate it from all impure admixtures. 

By thus stripping the most engaging employments of 
this dangerous delight, by infusing some drops of salutary 
bitterness into your sweetest draught, by some of these ill- 
tasted but wholesome mercies, he graciously compels us 
to return to himself By taking away the stays by which 
we are perpetually propping up our frail delights, they fall 
to the ground. We are, as it were, driven back to Him, 
who condescends to receive us, after we have tried every 
thing else, and after every thing else has failed us, and 
though he knows we should not have returned to him if 
every thing else had 7iot failed us. He makes us feel our 
weakness, that we may have recourse to his strength; he 
makes us sensible of our hitherto unperceived sins, that 
we may take refuge in his everlasting compassion. 



CHAP. IX. 

Christianity Universal in its Requisitions. 

It is not unusual to see people get rid of some of the 
most awful injunctions, and emancipate themselves from 
some of the most solemn requisitions of Scripture, by 
affecting to believe that they do not apply to them. They 
consider them as belonging exclusively to the first age 
of the Gospel, and to the individuals to whom they were 
immediately addressed; consequently the necessity to ob- 
serve them does not extend to persons under an established 
Christianity, to hereditary Christians. 

These exceptions are particularly applied to some of the 
leading doctrines, so forcibly and repeatedly pressed in 
the Epistles. The reasoners endeavor to persuade them- 
selves that it was only the Ephesians " who were dead in 



88 CHRISTIANITY UNIVERSAL 

trespasses and sins" — that it was only the Galatians who 
were enjoined " not to fulfil the lusts of the flesh" — that 
it was only the Philippians who were " enemies to the 
Cross of Christ." They shelter themselves under the 
comfortable assurance of a geographical security. As 
they know that they are neither Ephesians, Galatians, nor 
Philippians, they have of course little or nothing to do 
with the reproofs, expostulations, or threatenings which 
were originally directed to the converts among those peo- 
ple. They console themselves with the belief that it was 
only these Pagans who " walked according to the course 
of this world" — who were " strangers from the covenants 
of promise" — " and who were without God in the world." 

I3ut these self-satisfied critics would do well to learn that 
not only " circumcision nor uncircumcision," but baptism 
or no baptism " availeth nothing" (I mean as a mere form) 
" but a new creature." An irreligious professor of Chris- 
tianity is as much -i stranger and foreigner," as a hea- 
then; he is no more "a fellow citizen of the saints," and 
of the household of God " than a Colossian or Galatian 
was, before the Christian dispensation had reached them." 

But if the persons to whom the Apostles preached, had, 
before their conversion, no vices to which we are not liable, 
they had certainly difficulties afterwards from which we 
are happily exempt. There were indeed differences be- 
tween them and us in external situations, in local circum- 
stances, references to which we ought certainly to take into 
the account in perusing the Epistles. We allow that they 
were immediately, but we do not allow that they were 
exclusively, applicable to them. It would have been too 
limited an object for inspiration to have confined its in- 
structions to any one period, when its purpose was the 
conversion and instruction of the whole unborn world. 
That these converts were miraculously " called out of 
darkness into the marvellous light of the Gospel" — that 
they were changed from gross blindness to a rapid illu- 
mination — that the embracing the new faith exposed 
them to persecution, reproach and ignominy — that the 
few had to struggle against the world — that laws, princi- 
palities and powers which support our faith opposed theirs 
— these are distinctions of which we ought not to lose 
sight: nor should we forget that not only all the disadvan- 
tages lay on their side in their antecedent condition, but 
that also all the superiority lies on ours in that which is 
subsequent. 



INT ITS REQUISITIOXS, 89 

But however the condition of the external state of the 
Church might differ, there can be no necessity for any 
difference in the interior state of the individual Christian. 
On whatever high principles of devotedness to God and 
love to man, tlieij were called to act, we are called to act 
on precisely the same. If their faith was called to more 
pamfui exertions, if their self-denial to harder sacrifices, 
if their renunciation of earthly things to severer trials, let 
us thankfully remember this would naturally be the case, 
at the first introduction of a religion which had to combat 
with the pride, prejudices and enmity of corrupt nature 
invested with temporal power:— That the hostile party 
would not fail to perceive how much the new religion oppo- 
sed itself to their corruptions, and that it was introducing 
a spirit which was in direct and avowed hostility to the 
spirit of the world. 

But while we are deeply thankful for the diminished dif- 
ficulties of an established faith, let us never forget that 
Christianity allows of no diminution in the temper, of no 
abatement in the spirit, which constituted a Christian in 
the first ages of the Church. 

Christianity is precisely the same religion now as it was 
when our Saviour was upon earth. The spirit of the 
world is exactly the same now as it was then. And if the 
most eminent of the Apostles, under the immediate guid- 
ance of inspiration, were driven to lament their conflicts 
with their own corrupt nature, the power of temptation, 
combining with their natural propensities to evil, -how can 
we expect that a lower faith, a slackened zeal, an abated 
diligence, and an inferior holiness will be accepted in us? 
Believers ih€7i, were not called to higher degrees of purity, 
to a more elevated devotion, to a deeper humility, to greater 
rectitude, patience and sincerity than they are called to in 
the age in v/hich we live. The promises are not limited to 
the period in which they were made, the aid of the Spirit 
is not confined to those on whom it was first poured out. 
It was expressly declared, by St. Peter, on its first effusion* 
to be promised not only "to them and to their children' 
but to all who were afar off*, even to as many as the Lord 
their God should call." 

If then the same salvation be now ofl^ered as was ofl:ered 
at first, is it not obvious that it must be worked out in the 
same way? And as the same Gospel retains the same au 
thority in all ages, so does it maintain the same universality 
among all ranks. Christianity has no bye laws, no partic- 



90 CHRISTIANITY UNIVERSAL 

ular exemptions, no individual immunities. That there is 
no appropriate way of attaining salvation for a prince or a 
philosopher, is probably one reason why greatness and wis- 
dom have so often rejected it. But if rank cannot plead 
its privileges, genius cannot claim its distinctions. That 
Christianity does not owe its success to the arts of rhet- 
oric or the sophistry of the schools, but that God intended 
by it "to make foolish the wisdom of this world," actu- 
ally explains why "the disputers of this world" have always 
been its enemies. 

It would have been unworthy of the infinite God to have 
imparted a partial religion. There is but one " gate," and 
that a " strait" one; but one "way," and that a " narrow" 
one; there is but one salvation, and that a common one. 
The Gospel enjoins the same principles of love and obedi- 
ence on all of every condition; offers the same aids under 
the same exigencies; the same supports under all trials; 
the same pardon to all penitents; the same Saviour to all 
believers; the same rewards to all who "endure to the 
end." The temptations of one condition and the trials of 
another may call for the exercise of different qualities, for 
the performance of different duties, but the same personal 
holiness is enjoined on all. External acts of virtue may 
be promoted by some circumstances, and impeded by oth- 
ers, but the graces of inward piety are of universal force, 
are of eternal obligation. 

The universality of its requisitions is one of its most 
distinguishing characteristics. In the Pagan world it seem- 
ed sufficient that a few exalted spirits, a few fine geniuses 
should soar to a vast superiority above the mass; but it was 
never expected that the mob of Rome or Athens, should 
aspire to any religious sentiments or feelings in common 
with Socrates or Epictetus. I say religious sentiments, 
because in matters of taste the distinctions were less strik- 
ing, for the mob of Athens were competent critics in the 
dramatic art, while they were sunk in the most stupid and 
degrading idolatry. As to those of a higher class, while 
no subject in science, arts, or learning was too lofty or too 
abstruse for their acquisition, no object in nature was too 
low, no conception of a depraved imagination was too im- 
pure for their worship. While the civil and political wis- 
dom of the Romans was carried to such perfection that 
their code of laws has still a place in the most enlightened 
countries, their deplorably gross superstitions, rank them, 
in point of religion, with the savages of Africa. It shows 



IN ITS REQUISITIONS, 91 

how little a way that reason which manifested itself with 
such unrivalled vigor in their poets, orators and histori- 
ans, as to make them still models to ours, could go in what 
related to religion, when these polished people in the ob- 
jects of their worship are only on a par with the inhabitants 
of Otaheite. 

It furnishes the most incontrovertible proof that the world 
by wisdom knew not God, that it was at the very time, and 
in the very country, in which knowledge and taste had at- 
tained their utmost perfection, when the Porch and the 
Academy had given laws to human intellect, that atheism 
first assumed a shape, and established itself into a school 
of philosophy. It was at the moment when the mental 
powers were carried to the highest pitch in Greece, that it 
was settled as an infallible truth in this philosophy that the 
senses were the highest natural light of mankind. It was in 
the most enlightened age of Rome that this atheistical 
philosophy was transplanted thither, and that one of her 
most elegant poets adopted it, and rendered it popular by 
the bewitching graces of his verse. 

It seems as if the most accomplished nations stood in 
the most pressing need of the light of revelation; for it 
was not to the dark and stupid corners of the earth that 
the Apostles had their earliest missions. One of St. Paul's 
first and noblest expositions of Christian truth, was made 
before the most august deliberative assembly in the world, 
though, by the way, it does not appear that more than one 
member of Areopagus was converted. In Rome some 
of the Apostle's earliest converts belonged to the imperial 
palace. — It was to the metropolis of cultivated Italy, it 
was to the " regions of Achaia," to the opulent and luxu- 
rious city of Corinth, in preference to the barbarous coun- 
tries of the uncivilized world, that some of his first Epis- 
tles were addressed. 

Even natural religion was little understood by those who 
professed it; it was full of obscurity till viewed by the 
clear light of the Gospel. Not only natural religion re- 
mained to be clearly comprehended, but reason itself 
remained to be carried to its highest pitch in the countries 
where revelation is professed. Natural religion could not 
see itself by its own light, reason could not extricate itself 
from the labyrinth of error and ignorance in which false 
religion had involved the world. Grace has raised nature. 
Revelation has given a lift to reason, and taught her to 
despise the follies and corruptions which obscured her 



92 CHRISTIANITY UNIVERSAL 

brightness. If nature is now delivered from darkness, n 
was the helping hand of revelation which raised her from 
the rubbish in which she lay buried. 

Christianity has not only given us right conceptions of 
God, of his holiness, of the way in which he will be wor- 
shipped: it has not only given us principles to promote our 
happiness here, and to insure it hereafter; but it has really 
taught us what a proud philosophy arrogates to itself, the 
right use of reason. It has given us those principles of 
examining and judging, by which we are enabled to deter- 
mine on the absurdity of false religions. "For to what 
else can it be ascribed," says the sagacious Bishop Sher- 
lock, " that in every nation that names the name of Christ, 
even reason and nature see and condemn the follies, to 
which others are still, for want of the same help, held in 
subjection?" 

Allowing however that Plato and Antoninus seemed to 
have been taught of heaven, yet the object for which we 
contend is, that no provision was made for the vulgar. 
While a faint ray shone on the page of philosophy, the 
people were involved in darkness which might be felt. 
The million were left to live without knowledge and to die 
without hope. For what knowledge or what hope would 
be acquired from the preposterous though amusing, and in 
many respects elegant mythology which they might pick 
up in their poets, the belief of which seemed to be confin- 
ed to the populace. 

But there was no common principle of hope or fear, of 
faith or practice, no motive of consolation, no bond of 
charity, no communion of everlasting interests, no rever- 
sionary equality between the wise and the ignorant, the 
master and the slave, the Greek and the Barbarian. 

A religion was wanted which should be of general appli- 
cation. Christianity happily accommodated itself to the 
common exigence. It furnished an adequate supply to 
the universal want. Instead of perpetual but unexpiating 
sacrifices to appease imaginary deities, 

Gods such as guilt makes welcome, 

it presents " one oblation once offered, a full, perfect, and 
sufficient sacrifice, oblation, and satisfaction for the sins 
of the whole world." It presents one consistent scheme 
of morals growing out of one uniform system of doctrines; 
one perfect rule of practice depending on one principle of 



IN ITS REQUISITIONS. 93 

faith; it ofiers grace to direct the one and to assist the 
other. It encircles the whole sphere of duty with the 
broad and golden zone of coalescing charity, stamped with 
the inscription, " a new commandment give I unto you, 
that you love one another." Christianity, instead of de- 
stroying the distinctions of rank, or breaking in on the 
regulations of society, by this universal precept, furnishes 
new fences to its order, additional security to its repose, 
and fresh strength to its subordinations. 

Were this command, so inevitably productive of that 
peculiarly Christian injunction of " doing to others as we 
would they should do unto us," uniformly observed, the 
whole frame of society would be cemented and consolida- 
ted into one indissoluble bond of universal brotherhood. 
This divinely enacted law is the seminal principle of jus- 
tice,- charity, patience, forbearance, in short, of all social 
virtue. That it does not produce these excellent effects, 
is not owing to any defect in the principle, but in our cor- 
rupt nature, which so reluctantly, so imperfectly obeys it. 
If it were conscientiously adopted, and substantially acted 
upon, received in its very spirit, and obeyed from the 
ground of the heart, human laws might be abrogated, 
courts of justice abolished, and treatises of morality burnt; 
war would be no longer an art, nor military tactics a sci- 
ence. We should suffer long and be kind, and so far 
from " seeking that which is another's," we should not 
even " seek our own." 

But let not the soldier or the lawyer be alarmed. Their 
craft is in no danger. The world does not intend to act 
upon the divine principle which would injure their profes- 
sions; and till this only revolution which good men desire, 
actually takes place, our fortunes will not be secure with- 
out the exertions of the one, nor our lives without the pro- 
tection of the other. 

All the virtues have their appropriate place and rank in 
Scripture. They are introduced as individually beautiful, 
and as reciprocally connected, like the graces in the my- 
thologic dance. But perhaps no Christian grace ever sat 
to the hand of a more consummate master than charity. 
Her incomparable painter, St. Paul, has drawn her at full 
length in all her fair proportions. Every attitude is full of 
grace, every lineament, of beauty. The whole delineation 
is perfect and entire, wanting nothing. 

Who can look at this finished piece without blushing at 
his own want of likeness to it? Yet if this conscious 



94 CHRISTIAN HOLINESS. 

dissimilitude induce a cordial desire of resemblance, the 
humiliation will be salutary. Perhaps a more frequent 
contemplation of this exquisite figure, accompanied with 
earnest endeavors for a growing resemblance, would grad- 
ually lead us, not barely to admire the portrait, but would 
at length assimilate us to the divine original. 



CHAP. X. 

Christian Holiness. 



Christianity, then, as we have attempted to show in 
the preceding chapter, exhibits no different standards of 
goodness applicable to different stations or characters. 
No one can be allowed to rest in a low degree and plead 
his exemption for aiming no higher. No one can be se- 
cure in any state of piety below that state which would not 
have been enjoined on all, had not all been entitled to the 
means of attaining it. 

Those who keep their pattern in their eye, though they 
may fail of the highest attainments, will not be satisfied 
with such as are low. The striking inferiority will excite 
compunction; compunction will stimulate them to press 
on, which those never do, who, losing sight of their stan- 
dard, are satisfied with the height they have reached. 

He is not likely to be the object of God's favor, who 
takes his determined stand on the very lowest step in the 
scale of perfection; who does not even aspire above it, 
whose aim seems to be, not so much to please God as to 
escape punishment. Many however will doubtless be ac- 
cepted, though their progress has been small; their diffi- 
culties may have been great, their natural capacity weak, 
their temptations strong, and their instruction defective. 

Revelation has not only furnished injunctions but motives 
to holiness; not only motives, but examples and authori- 
ties. "Be ye therefore perfect" (according to your mea- 
sure and degree) " as your father which is in heaven is 
perfect." And what says the Old Testament? It ac- 
cords with the New — "Be ye holy, for I the Lord your 
God am holy." 

This was the injunction of God himself, not given exclu- 



CHRISTIAN HOLINESS. 95 

sively to Moses, to the leader and legislator, or to a few 
distinguished officers, or to a selection of eminent men, 
but to an immense body of people, even to the whole as- 
sembled host of Israel; to men of all ranks, professions, 
capacities, and characters; to the minister of religion, and 
to the uninstructed, to enlightened rulers, and to feeble 
women. 'God," says an excellent writer,* "had ante- 
cedently given to his people particular laws suited to their 
several exigencies, and various conditions, but the com- 
mand to be holy was a general (might he not have said a 
universal) law. ' 

"Who is Hke unto thee, O Lord, among the gods.? 
Who is like unto thee, glorious in holiness, fearful in 
praises, doing wonders?" This is perhaps the sublimest 
apostrophe of praise, (rendered more striking by its inter- 
rogatory form,) which the Scriptures have recorded. It 
makes a part of the first song of gratulation which is to be 
found in the treasury of sacred poetry. This epithet of 
holy is more frequently affixed to the name of God than any 
other. Plis mighty name is Jess often invoked, than his 
holy name. To offend against this attribute is represented 
as more heinous than to oppose any other. It has been 
remarked that the impiety )f the Assyrian monarch is not 
described by his hostility against the great, the Almighty 
God, but it is made an aggravation of his crime that he 
had committed it against the Holy One of Israel. 

When God condescended to give a pledge for the per- 
formance of his promise, he swears by his holiness, as if it 
were the distinguishing quality which was more especially 
bhiding. It seems connected and interwoven with all the 
divine perfections. Which of his excellences can we con- 
template as separated from this-^* Is not his justice stamp- 
ed with sanctity ? It is free from any tincture of vindic- 
tiveness, and is therefore a holy justice. His mercy has 
none of the partiality or favoritism, or capricious fondness 
of human kindness, but is a holy mercy. His holiness is 
not more the source of his mercies than of his punish- 
ments. If his holiness in his severities to us wanted a 
justification, there cannot be at once a more substantial and 
more splendid illustration of it than the noble passage al- 
ready quoted, for he is called " glorious in holiness," im- 
mediately after he had vindicated the honor of his name, 
by the miraculous destruction of the army of Pharaoh. 

Is it not then a necessary consequence growing out of 
* Saurin. 



96 CHRISTIAN HOLINESS. 

his perfections, "that a righteous God loveth righteous- 
ness," that he will of course require in his creatures a de- 
sire to imitate as well as to adore that attribute by which 
He himself loves to be distinguished? We cannot indeed, 
like God, be essentially holy. In an infinite being it is a 
substance, in a created being it is only an accident. God 
is the essence of holiness, but we can have no holiness, 
nor any other good thing, but what we derive from him — 
it is his prerogative, but our privilege. 

If God loves holiness because it is his image, he must 
consequently hate sin because it defaces his image. If he 
glorifies his own mercy and goodness in rewarding vir- 
tue, he no less vindicates the honor of his holiness in the 
punishment of vice. — A perfect God can no more approve 
of sin in his creatures than he can commit it himself. He 
may forgive sin on his own conditions, but there are no 
conditions on which he can be reconciled to it. The infi- 
nite goodness of God may delight in the beneficial purposes 
to which his infinite wisdom has made the sins of his crea- 
tures subservient, but sin itself will always be abhorrent to 
his nature. His wisdom may turn it to a merciful end, 
but his indignation at the offence cannot be diminished. 
He loves man, for he cannot but love his own work ; He 
hates sin for that was man's own invention, and no part 
of the work which God had made. Even in the imperfect 
administration of human laws, impunity of crimes would 
be construed into approbation of them.* 

The law of holiness then, is a law binding on all persons 
without distinction, not limited to the period nor to the 
people to whom it was given. It reaches through the 
whole Jewish dispensation, and extends with wider de- 
mands and higher sanctions, to every Christian, of every 
denomination, of every age, and every country. 

A more sublime motive cannot be assigned why we 
should be holy than because " the Lord our God is holy." 
Men of the world have no objection to the terms virtue, 
morality, integrity, rectitude, but they associate something 
overacted, not to say hypocritical, with the term holiness, 
and neither use it in a good sense when applied to others, 
nor would wish to have it applied to themselves, but make 
it over, with a little suspicion, and not a little derision, to 
puritans and enthusiasts. 

This suspected epithet however is surely rescued from 
every injurious association, if we consider it as the chosen 

* Note. — See Charnock. on the Attributes. 



CHRISTIAN HOLINESS, 97 

attribute of the Most High. We do not presume to apply 
the terms virtue, probity, morality, to God, but we ascribe 
holiness to him because he first ascribed it to Himself, as 
the aggregate and consummation of all his perfections. 

Shall so imperfect a being as man then, ridicule the ap- 
plication of this term to others, or be ashamed of it him- 
self? There is a cause indeed which should make him 
ashamed of the appropriation, that of not deserving it. 
This comprehensive appellation includes all the Christian 
graces, all the virtues in their just proportion, order, and 
harmony; in all their bearings, relations, and dependen- 
ces. And as in God, glory and holiness are united, so 
the Apostle combines " sanctification and honor" as the 
glory of man. 

Traces more or less of the holiness of God, may be 
found in his works, to those who view them with the eye 
of faith: they are more plainly visible in his providences; 
but it is in his word that we must chiefly look for the man- 
ifestations of his holiness. He is every where described 
as perfectly holy in himself, as pr model to be imitated by 
his creatures, and, though with an interval immeasurable, 
as imitable by them. 

The great doctrine of redemption is inseparably con- 
nected with the doctrine of sanctification. As an ad- 
mirable writer has observed, " if the blood of Christ re- 
concile us to the justice of God, the spirit of Christ is to 
reconcile us to the holiness of God," When we are told 
therefore that Christ is made unto us "righteousness," 
we are in the same place taught that he is made unto us 
sanctification; that is, he is both justifier and sanctifier. 
In vain shall we deceive ourselves by resting on his sac- 
rifice, while we neglect to imitate his example. 

The glorious spirits which surround the throne of God 
ore not represented as singing hallelujahs to his omnipo- 
tence, nor even to his mercy, but to that attribute which, 
as with a glory, encircles all the rest. They perpetually 
cry Holy, holy, holy. Lord God of Hosts, and it is observ- 
able, that the angels which adore him for his holiness are 
the ministers of his justice. Those pure intelligences per- 
ceive, no doubt, that this union of attributes constitutes 
the divine perfection. 

This infinitely blessed Being then, to whom angels and 
archangels, and all the hosts of heaven are continually as- 
cribing holiness, has commanded us to be holy. To be 
holv because God is hoi v. is both an argument and a com- 



Do CHRISTIAN HOLINESS. 

mand. An argument founded on the perfections of God. 
and a command to imitate Him. This command is given to 
creatures, fallen indeed, but to whom God graciously 
promises strength for the imitation. If in God holiness 
implies an aggregate of perfections; in man, even in his 
low degree, it is an incorporation of the Christian graces. 

The holiness of God indeed is confined by no limitation; 
ours is bounded, finite, imperfect. Yet let us be sedulous 
to extend our little sphere. Let our desires be large, 
though our capacities are contracted. Let our aims be 
lofty, though our attainments are low. Let us be solicitous 
that no day pass without some augmentation of our holi- 
ness, some added height in our aspirations, some wider ex- 
pansion in the compass of our virtues. Let us strive every 
day for some superiority to the preceding day, something 
that shall distinctly mark the passing scene with progress; 
something that shall inspire an humble hope that we are 
rather less unfit for heaven to-day, than we were yester- 
day. The celebrated artist who has recorded that he 
passed no day without drawing a line, drew it not for re- 
petition but for progress; not to produce a given number of 
strokes, but to forward his work, to complete his design. 
The Christian, like the painter, does not draw his lines at 
random, he has a model to imitate, as well as an outline 
to fill. Every touch conforms him more and more to the 
great original. He who has transfused most of the life of 
God into his soul, has copied it most successfully. 

" To seek happiness," says one of the fathers, "is to 
desire God, and to find him is that happiness." Our very 
happiness therefore is not our independent property: it 
flows from that eternal mind which is the source and sum 
of happiness. In vain we look for felicity in all around 
us. It can only be found in that original fountain, whence 
we, and all we are and have, are derived. Where then 
is the imaginary wise man of the school of Zeno ? What 
is the perfection of virtue supposed by Aristotle .'' They 
have no existence but in the romance of philosophy. Hap- 
piness must be imperfect in an imperfect state. Religion, 
it is true, is initial happiness, and points to its perfection: 
but as the best men possess it but imperfectly, they can 
not be perfectly happy. Nothing can confer completeness 
which is itself incomplete. "With Thee, O Lord, is the 
fountain of life, and in thy light only we shall see light," * 

* See Lcighton on Happiness, 



CHRISTIAN HOLINESS. 99 

Whatever shall still remain wanting in our attainments, 
and much will still remain, let this last, greatest, highest 
consideration, stimulate our languid exertions, that God 
has negatively promised the beatific vision, the enjoyment 
of his presence, to this attainment, by specially proclaim- 
ing, that without holiness no man shall see his face. To 
know God, is the rudiments of that eternal life which will 
hereafter be perfected by seeing him. — As there is no 
stronger reason why we must not look for perfect happi- 
ness in this life, than because there is no perfect holiness, 
so the nearer advances we make to the one, the greater 
progress we shall make towards the other; we must culti- 
vate here those tendencies and tempers which must be 
carried to perfection in a happier clime. But as holiness 
is the concomitant of happiness, so must it be its precur- 
sor. • As sin has destroyed our happiness, so sin must be 
destroyed before our happiness can be restored. Our na- 
ture must be renovated before our felicity can be estab- 
lished. This is according to the nature of things as well 
as agreeable to the law and will of God. Let us then 
carefully look to the subduing in our inmost hearts, all 
those dispositions that are unlike God, all those actions, 
thoughts and tendencies that are contrary to God. 

Independently therefore of all the other motives to holi- 
ness which religion suggests; independently of the fear of 
punishment, independently even of the hope of glory, let 
us be holy from this ennobling, elevating motive, because 
the Lord our God is holy. And when our virtue flags, let 
it be renovated by this imperative injunction, backed by 
this irresistible argument. The motive for imitation, and 
the Being to be imitated, seem almost to identify us with 
infinity. It is a connection which endears, an assimilation 
which dignifies, a resemblance which elevates. The apos- 
tle has added to the prophet an assurance which makes 
the crown and consummation of the promise, " that though 
we know not yet what we shall be, yet we know that when 
he shall appear, we shall be like him, lor we shall see him 
as he is." 

In what a beautiful variety of glowing expressions, and 
admiring strains, do the scripture worthies delight to re- 
present God; not only in relation to what he is to them, 
but to the supreme excellence of his own transcendent 
perfections! They expatiate, they amplify, they dwell 
with unwearied iteration on the adorable theme; they ran- 
sack language, they exhaust all the expressions of praise 



100 CHRISTIAN HOLINESS. 

and wonder, and admiration, all the images of astonishment 
and delight, to laud and magnify his glorious name. They 
praise him, they bless him, they worship him, they glorify 
him, they give thanks to him for his great glory, saying, 
" holy, holy, holy. Lord God of hosts, heaven and earth 
are full of the majesty of thy glory." 

They glorify him relatively to themselves. " I will mag- 
nify Thee, O Lord my strength — My help cometh of God 
— The Lord himself is the portion of my inheritance." 
At another time, soaring with a noble disinterestedness, 
and quite losing sight of self and all created glories, they 
adore him for his own incommunicable excellences. " Be 
Thou exalted, O God, in thine own strength." — "Oh, the 
depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of 
God! " Then bursting to a rapture of adoration, and 
burning with a more intense flame, they cluster his attri- 
butes—" To the King eternal, immortal, invisible, be honor 
and glory for ever and ever." One is lost in admiration of 
his wisdom — his ascription is, "to the only wise God." 
Another in triumphant strains overflows with transport at 
the consideration of the attribute on which we have been 
descanting — " O Lord, who is like unto Thee, there is 
none holy as the Lord." " Sing praises unto the Lord, oh 
ye saints of his, and give thanks unto him for a remem- 
brance of his holiness." 

The prophets and apostles were not deterred from pour- 
ing out the overflowings of their fervent spirits, they were 
not restrained from celebrating the perfections of their 
Creator, through the cold-hearted fear of being reckoned 
enthusiasts. The saints of old were not prevented from 
breathing out their rapturous hosannas to the King of 
saints, through the coward dread of being branded as 
fanatical. The conceptions of their minds dilating with 
the view of the glorious constellation of the divine attri- 
butes; and the affections of their hearts warming with the 
thought, that those attributes were all concentrated in 
Mercy, — they display a sublime oblivion of themselves, — 
they forget every thing but God. Their own wants dwindle 
to a point. Their own concerns, nay the universe itself, 
shrink into nothing. They seem absorbed in the effulgence 
of Deity, lost in the radient beams of infinite glory. 



SMALL FAULTS AND VIRTUES. lOl 

CHAP. XI 

On the comparatively small Faults and Virtues 

The " fishers of men," as if exclusively bent on catch- 
ing the greater sinners, often make the interstices of the 
moral net so wide, that it cannot retain those of more ordi- 
dinary size, which every where abound. Their draught 
might be more abundant, were not the meshes so large 
that the smaller sort, aided by their own lubricity, escape 
the toils and shp through. Happy to find themselves not 
bulky enough to be entangled, they plunge back again 
into their native element, enjoy their escape, and hope they 
may safely wait to grow bigger before they are in danger 
of being caught. 

It is of more importance than we are aware, or are wil- 
ling to allow, that we take care diligently to practise the 
smaller virtues, avoid scrupulously the lesser sins, and 
bear patiently inferior trials; for the sin of habitually yield- 
ing, or the grace of habitually resisting, in comparatively 
small points, tends in no inconsiderable degree to produce 
that vigor or that debility of mind, on which hangs victory 
or defeat. 

Conscience is moral sensation. It is the hasty percep- 
tion of good and evil, the peremptory decision of the mind 
to adopt the one or avoid the other. Providence has fur- 
nished the body with senses, and the soul with conscience, 
as a tact by which to shrink from the approach of danger; 
as a prompt feeling to supply the deductions of reasonino-; 
as a spontaneous impulse to precede a train of reflections 
for which the suddenness and surprise of the attack allow 
no time. An enlightened conscience, if kept tenderly alive, 
by a continual attention to its admonitions, would especially 
preserve us from those smaller sins, and stimulate us to 
those lesser duties which we are falsely apt to think are too 
insignificant to be brought to the bar of religion, too trivial 
to be weighed by the standard of scripture. 

By cherishing this quick feeling of rectitude, light and 
sudden as the flash from heaven, and which is in fact the 
motion of the spirit, we intuitively reject what is wrong 
before we have time to examine why it is wrong; and seize 
on what is right before we have time to examine why it is 
right. Should we not then be careful how we extinguish 



102 SMALL FAULTS 

this sacred spark? Will any thing be more likely to ex- 
tinguish it, than to neglect its hourly mementos to perform 
the smaller duties, and to avoid the lesser faults, which, 
as they in a good measure make up the sum of human life, 
will naturally fix and determine our character, that creature 
of habits ? Will not our neglect or observance of it, incline 
or indispose us for those more important duties, of which 
these smaller ones are connecting links? 

The vices derive their existence from wildness, confu- 
sion, disorganization. The discord of the passions is owing 
to their having different views, conflicting aims, and oppo- 
site ends. The rebellious vices have no common head; 
each is all to itself They promote their own operations 
by disturbing those of others, but in disturbing they do not 
destroy them. Though they are all of one family, they 
live on no friendly terms. Profligacy hates covetousness 
as much as if it were a virtue. The life of every sin is a 
life of conflict, which occasions the torment, but not the 
death of its opposite. Like the fabled brood of the ser- 
pent, the passions spring up, armed against each other, 
but they fail to complete the resemblance, for they do not 
effect their mutual destruction. 

But without union the Christian graces could not be per- 
fected, and the smaller virtues are the threads and filaments 
which gently but firmly tie them together. There is an 
attractive power in goodness which draws each part to the 
other. This concord of the virtues is derived from their 
having one common centre in which all meet. In vice 
there is a strong repulsion. Though bad men seek each 
other, they do not love each other. Each seeks the other 
in order to promote his own purposes, while he hates him 
by whom his purposes are promoted. 

The lesser qualities of the human character are like the 
lower people in a country; they are numerically, if not in- 
dividually, important. If well-regulated, they become valu- 
able from that very circumstance of numbers which, under 
a negligent administration, renders them formidable. The 
peace of the individual mind and of the nation, is materi- 
ally affected by the discipline in which these inferior orders 
are maintained. Laxity and neglect, in both cases, are 
subversive of all good government. 

But if we may be allowed to glance from earth to heaven, 
perhaps the beauty of the lesser virtues may be still better 
illustrated by that long and luminous track made up of 
minute and almost imperceptible stars, which though sepa- 



AXD VIRTUES. 103 

rately too inconsiderable to attract attention, yet from their 
number and confluence, form that soft and shining stream 
of light every where discernible, and which always corres- 
ponds to the same fixed stars, as the smaller virtues do to 
their concomitant great ones. Without pursuing the met- 
aphor to the classic fiction that the galaxy was the road 
through which the ancient heroes went to heaven, may we 
not venture to say that Christians will make their way 
thither more pleasant by the consistent practice of the mi- 
nuter virtues? 

Every Christian should consider religion as a fort which 
he is called to defend. The meanest soldier in the army, 
if he add patriotism to valor, will fight as earnestly as if 
the glory of the contest depended on his single arm. But 
he brings his watchfulness as well as his courage into ac- 
tion. He strenuously defends every pass he is appointed 
to guard, without inquiring whether it be great or small. 
There is not any defect in religion or morals so little as to 
be of no consequence. Worldly things may be little, be- 
cause their aim and end may be little. Things are great 
or small, not according to their ostensible importance, but 
according to the magnitude of their object, and the impor- 
tance of their consequences. 

The acquisition of even the smallest virtue, being, as has 
been before observed, an actual conquest over the oppo- 
site vice, doubles our moral strength. The spiritual enemy 
has one subject less, and the conqueror one virtue more. 

By allowed negligence in small things, we are not aware 
how much we injure religion in the eye of the world. How 
can we expect people to believe that we are in earnest in 
great points, when they see that we cannot withstand a 
trivial temptation, against which resistance v.'ould have 
been comparatively easy? At a distance they hear with 
respect of our general characters. They become domes- 
ticated with us, and discover the same failings, littlenesses, 
and bad tempers, as they have been accustomed to meet 
with in the most ordinary persons. 

If Milton, in one of his letters to a learned foreigner who 
had visited him, could congratulate himself on the con- 
sciousness that in that visit he had been found equal to his 
reputation, and had supported in private conversation his 
high character as an author; shall not the Christian be 
equally anxious to support the credit of his holy profession, 
by not betraying in familiar life, any temper inconsistent 
with religion ? 



104 SxMALL FAULTS 

It is not difficult to attract respect on great occasions, 
where we are kept in order by knowing that the public eye 
is fixed upon us. It is easy to maintain a regard to our 
dignity in a " Symposiac, or an academical dinner; " but 
to labor to maintain it in the recesses of domestic privacy, 
requires more watchfulness, and is no less the duty, than 
it will be the habitual practice, of the consistent Christian. 

Our neglect of inferior duties is particularly injurious to 
the minds of our dependents and servants. If they see us 
" weak and infirm of purpose," peevish, irresolute, capri- 
cious, passionate, or inconsistent, in our daily conduct, 
which comes under their immediate observation, and which 
comes also within their power of judging, they will not give 
us credit for those higher qualities which we may possess, 
and those superior duties which we may be more careful 
to fulfil. Neither their capacity, nor their opportunities, 
may enable them to judge of the orthodoxy of the head; 
but there will be obvious and decisive proofs to the mean- 
est capacity, of the state and temper of the heart. Our 
greater qualities will do them little good, while our lesser 
but incessant faults do them much injury. Seeing us so 
defective in the daily course of domestic conduct, though 
they will obey us because they are obliged to it, they will 
neither love nor esteem us enough to be influenced by our 
advice, nor to be governed by our instructions, on those 
great points which every conscientious head of a family 
will be careful to inculcate on all about him. It demands 
no less circumspection to be a Christian, than to be "a 
hero, to one's valet de chambre." 

In all that relates to God and to himself, the Christian 
knows of no small faults. He considers all allowed and 
wilful sins, whatever be their magnitude, as an offence 
against his Maker. Nothing that offends him can be insig- 
nificant. Nothing that contributes to fasten on ourselves 
a wrong habit can be trifling. Faults which we are accus- 
tomed to consider as small, are repeated without com- 
punction. The habit of committing them is confirmed by 
the repetition. Frequency renders us at first indifferent, 
then insensible. The hopelessness attending a long in- 
dulged custom, generates carelessness, till, for want of 
exercise, the power of resistance is first weakened, then 
destroyed. 

But there is a still more serious point of view in which 
the subject may be considered. Do small faults, continu- 
ally repeated, alwavs retain their original diminutiveness? 



AND VIRTUES. 106 

Is any axiom more established, than that all evil is of a 
progressive nature? Is a bad temper which is never re- 
pressed, no worse after years of indulgence, than when we 
tirst gave the reins to it? Does that which we first allowed 
ourselves under the name of harmless levity on serious 
subjects, never proceed to profaneness? Does what was 
once admired as proper spirit, never grow into pride, never 
swell into insolence? Does the habit of incorrect narra- 
tive, or loose talking, or allowed hyperbole, never lead to 
falsehood, never settle in deceit? Before we positively 
determine that small faults are innocent, we must under- 
take to prove that they shall never outgrow their primitive 
dimensions; we must ascertain that the infant shall never 
become a giant. 

Piycrastination is reckoned among the most venial of our 
faults, and sits so lightly on our minds, that we scarcely 
apologize for it. But who can assure us, that had not the 
assistance we had resolved to give to one friend under dis- 
tress, or the advice to another under temptation, to-day 
been delayed, and from mere sloth and indolence been put 
off till to-morrow, it might not have preserved the fortunes 
of the one, or saved the soul of the other? 

It is not enough that we perform duties, we must perform 
them at the right time. We must do the duty of every day 
in its own season. Every day has its own imperious duties; 
we must not depend upon to-day for fulfilling those which 
we neglected yesterday, for to-day might not have been 
granted us. To-morrow will be equally peremptory in its 
demands; and the succeeding day, if we live to see it, 
will be ready with its proper claims. 

Indecision, though it is not so often caused by reflection 
as by the want of it, yet may be as mischievous, for if we 
spend too much time in balancing probabilities, the period 
for action is lost. While we are ruminating on difiiculties 
which may never occur, reconciling differences which per- 
haps do not exist, and poising in opposite scales things of 
nearly the same weight, the opportunity is lost of producing 
that good, which a firm and manly decision would have 
effected. 

Idleness, though itself " the most unperforming of all 
the vices," is however the pass through which they all 
enter, the stage on whicli they all act. Though supremely 
passive itself, it lends a willing hand to all evil, practical 
as well as speculative. It is the abettor of every sin, who- 
ever commits it, the receiver of all booty, whoever is the 



106 SMALL FAULTS 

thief. If it does nothing itself, it connives at all the mis- 
chief that is done by others. 

Vanity is exceedingly misplaced when ranked, as she com- 
monly is, in the catalogue of small faults. It is under her 
character of harmlessness that she does all her mischief 
She is indeed often found in the society of great virtues. 
She does not follow in the train, but mixes herself with 
the company, and by mixing mars it. The use our spirit- 
ual enemy makes of her is a master stroke. When he 
cannot prevent us from doing right actions, he can accom- 
plish his purpose almost as well " by making us vain of 
them." When he cannot deprive the public of our benev- 
olence, he can defeat the effect to ourselves by poisoning 
the principle. When he cannot rob others of the good 
effect of the deed, he can gain his point by robbing the 
doer of his reward. 

Peevishness is another of the minor miseries. Human 
life, though sufficiently unhappy, cannot contrive to furnish 
misfortunes so often as the passionate and the peevish can 
supply impatience. To commit our reason and temper to 
the mercy of every acquaintance, and of every servant, is 
not making the wisest use of them. If we recollect that 
violence and peevishness are the common resource of those 
whose knowledge is small, and whose arguments are weak, 
our very pride might lead us to subdue our passion, if we 
had not a better principle to resort to. Anger is the com- 
mon refuge of insignificance. People who feel their char- 
acter to be slight, hope to give it weight by inflation. But 
the blown bladder at its fullest distension is still empty. 
Sluggish characters, above all, have no right to be passion- 
ate. They should be contented with their own congenial 
faults. Dullness however has its impetuosities and its 
fluctuations as well as genius. It is on the coast of heavy 
Boeotia that the Euripus exhibits its unparalleled restless- 
ness and agitation. 

Trifling is ranked among the venial faults. But if time 
be one grand talent given us in order to our securing eter- 
nal life ; if we trifle away that time so as to lose that eter- 
nal life, on which, by not trifling, we might have laid hold, 
then will it answer the end of sin. A life devoted to trifles 
not only takes away the inclination, but the capacity for 
higher pursuits. The truths of Christianity have scarcely 
more influence on a frivolous than on a profligate charac- 
ter. If the mind be so absorbed, not merely with what is 
vicious, but with what is useless, as to be thoroughly disin- 



AND VIRTUES. 107 

clined to the activities of a life of piety, it matters little 
what the cause is which so disinclines it. If these habits 
cannot be accused of great moral evil, yet it argues a low 
state of mind, that a being who has an eternity at stake, 
can abandon itself to trivial pursuits. If the great concern 
of life cannot be secured w^ithout habitual watchfulness, 
how is it to be secured by habitual carelessness? It will 
afford little comfort to the trifler, when at the last reckon- 
ing he gives in his long negative catalogue, that the more 
ostensible offender w^as worse employed. The trifler will 
not be weighed in the scale with the profligate, but in the 
balance of the sanctuary. 

Some men make for themselves a sort of code of the 
lesser morals, of which they settle both the laws and the 
chronology. They fix "the climactericks of the mind*;" 
determine at what period such a vice may be adopted with- 
out discredit, at what age one bad habit may give way to 
another more in character. Having settled it as a matter 
of course, that to a certain age certain faults are natural, 
they proceed to act as if they thought them necessary. 

But let us not practice on ourselves the gross imposition 
to believe that any failing, much less any vice, is neces- 
sarily appended to any state or any age, or that it is irre- 
sistible at any. We may accustom ourselves to talk of 
vanity and extravagance as belonging to the young, and 
avarice and peevishness to the old, till the next step will 
be that we shall think ourselves justified in adopting them. 
Whoever is eager to find excuses for vice and folly, will 
feel his own backwardness to practice them much dimin- 
ished. 

C^est le premier pas qui coute. It is only to make out an 
imaginary necessity, and then we easily fall into the neces- 
sity we have imagined. Providence has established no 
such association. There is, it is true, more danger of 
certain faults under certain circumstances; and some 
temptations are stronger at some periods, but it is a proof 
that they are not irresistible because all do not fall into 
them. The evil is in ourselves, who mitigate the discredit 
by the supposed necessity. The prediction, like the dream 
of the astrologer, creates the event instead of foretelling 
it. But there is no supposition can be made of a bad case 
which will justify the making it our own: Nor will general 
positions ever serve for individual apologies. — Who has not 

* Dr. .T..li:i.«nn. 



108 SMALL FAULTS 

known persons who, though they retain the sound health 
and vigor of active life, sink prematurely into sloth and 
inactivity, solely on the ground that these dispositions are 
fancied to be unavoidably incident to advancing years. 
They demand the indulgence before they feel the infirmity. 
Indolence thus forges a dismission from duty before the 
discharge is issued out by Providence. No. — Let us 
endeavor to meet the evils of the several conditions and 
periods of life with submission, but it is an offence to 
their divine dispenser to forestall them. 

But we have still a saving clause for ourselves whether 
the evil be of a greater or lesser magnitude. If the fault 
be great, we lament the inability to resist it, if small, we 
deny the importance of so doing ; we plead that we cannot 
withstand a great temptation, and that a small one is not 
worth withstanding. But if the temptation or the fault be 
great, we should resist it on account of that very magni- 
tude; if small, the giving it up can cost but little; and the 
conscientious habit of conquering the less, v/ill confer con- 
siderable strength towards subduing the greater. 

There is again, a sort of splendid character, which, wind- 
ing itself up occasionally to certain shining actions, thinks 
itself fully justified in breaking loose from the shackles 
of restraint in smaller things; it makes no scruple to 
indemnify itself for these popular deeds by indulgences 
which, though allowed, are far from innocent. It thus se- 
cures to itself praise and popularity by what is sure to gain 
it, and immunity from censure in indulging the favorite 
fault, practically exclaiming, "is it not a little one?" 

Vanity is at the bottom of almost all, may we not say, 
of all our sins? We think more of signalizing than of 
saving ourselves. We overlook the hourly occasions 
which occur of serving, of obliging, of comforting those 
around us, while we sometimes, not unwillingly perform an 
act of notorious generosity. The habit however in the 
former case better indicates the disposition and bent of the 
mind, than the solitary act of splendor. The apostle does 
not say whatsoever orcat things ye do, but " whatsoever 
things ye do, do all to the glory of God," Actions are 
less weighed by their bulk than their motive. Virtues are 
less measured by their splendor than their principle. 
The racer proceeds in his course more effectually by a 
steady unslackened pace, than by starts of violent but un- 
equal exertion. 

That great abstract of moral law, of which we have 



AND VIRTUES. 109 

elsewhere spoken,* that rule of the highest court of appeal, 
set up in his own bosom, to which every man can always 
resort, " all things that ye would that men should do unto 
you, do ye also unto them." — This law if faithfully obeyed, 
operating as an infallible remedy, for all the disorders 
of self-love, would, by throwing its partiality into the right 
scale, establish the exercise of all the smaller virtues. Its 
strict observance would not only put a stop to all injustice, 
but to all unkindness; not only to oppressive acts, but to 
unfeeling language. Even haughty looks and supercilious 
gestures would be banished from the face of society, did 
we ask ourselves how we should like to receive what we 
are not ashamed to give. 

Till we thus morally transmute place, person, and cir- 
cumstance with those of our brother, we shall never treat 
him with the tenderness this gracious law enjoins. Small 
virtues and small offences are only so by comparison. To 
treat a fellow creature with harsh language, is not indeed 
a crime like robbing him of his estate or destroying his 
reputation. They are however all the offspring of the 
same family, — They are the same in quality though not in 
degree. AH flow, though in streams of different magni- 
tude, from the same fountain; all are indications of a 
departure from that principle which is included in the law 
of love. The consequences they involve are not less cer- 
tain, though they are less important. 

The reason why what are called religious people often 
differ so little from others in small trials is, that instead of 
bringing religion to their aid in their lesser vexations, they 
either leave the disturbance to prey upon their minds, or 
apply to false reliefs for its removal. Those who are ren- 
dered unhappy by frivolous troubles, seek comfort in frivo- 
lous enjoyments. But we should apply the same remedy 
to ordinary trials, as to great ones; for as small disquie- 
tudes spring from the same cause as great trials, namely, 
the uncertain and imperfect condition of human life, so 
they require the same remedy. Meeting common cares 
with a right spirit, would impart a smoothness to the temper, 
a spirit of cheerfulness to the heart, which would mightily 
break the force of heavier trials. 

You apply to the power of religion in great evils, — Why 
docs it not occur to you to apply to it in the less? Is it that 
you think the instrument greater than the occasion de- 

* Chapter IX, 



110 SMALL FAULTS 

mands ? It is not too great if the lesser one will not pro- 
duce the effect; or if it produce it in the wrong way, for 
there is such a thing as putting an evil out of sight without 
curing it. You would apply to religion on the loss of your 
child — apply to it on the loss of your temper. Throw in 
this wholesome tree to sweeten the bitter waters. As no 
calamity is too great for the power of Christianity to miti- 
gate, so none is too small to experience its jjeneficial 
results. Our behavior under the ordinary accidents of 
life forms a characteristic distinction between different 
classes of Christians. The least advanced resort to reli- 
gion on great occasions, the deeper proficient resorts to it 
on all. What makes it appear of so little comparative 
value is, that the medicine prepared by the great Physician 
is throv/n by instead of being taken. The patient thinks 
not of it but in extreme cases. A remedy, however potent, 
not applied, can produce no effect. But he who has adopt- 
ed one fixed principle for the government of his life, will 
try to keep it in perpetual exercise. An acquaintance with 
the nature of human evils and of their remedy, would 
check that spirit of complaint which so much abounds, and 
which often makes so little difference between people pro- 
fessing religion and those who profess it not. 

If the duties in question are not great, they become im- 
portant by the constant demand that is made for them. 
They have been called " the small coin of human life," 
and on their perpetual and unobstructed circulation de- 
pends much of the comfort, as well as convenience of its 
transactions. They make up in frequency what they want 
in magnitude. How few of us are called to carry the 
doctrines of Christianity into distant lands! but which of 
us is not called every day to adorn those doctrines, by 
gentleness in our own carriage, by kindness and forbear- 
ance to all about us ? 

In performing the unostensible duties, there is no incen- 
tive from vanity. No love of fame inspires that virtue, of 
which fame will never hear. There can be but one motive, 
and that the purest, for the exercise of virtues, the report 
of which will never reach beyond the little circle whose 
happiness they promote. They do not fill the world with 
our renown, but they fill our own family with comfort, and 
if they have the love of God for their principle, they will 
have his favor for their reward. 

In this enumeration of faults, we include not sins of in- 
firmity, inadvertency and surprise, to whif h even the most 



AND VIRTUES. Ill 

sincere Christians are but too liable. What are here 
adverted to, are allowed, habitual, and unresisted faults: 
habitual, because unresisted, and allowed from the notion 
that they are too inconsiderable to call for resistance. 
Faults into which we are betrayed through surprise and 
inadvertency, though that is no reason for committing them, 
may not be without their uses: they renew the salutary 
conviction of our sinful nature, make us little in our own 
eyes, increase our sense of dependence, promote watch- 
fulness, deepen humility and quicken repentance. 

We must however be careful not to entangle the con- 
science or embarrass the spirit by groundless apprehen- 
sions. We have a merciful father, not a hard master to 
deal vv'ith. We must not harass our minds with a suspi- 
cious, dread, as if by a needless rigor the Almighty were 
laying snares to entrap us, nor be terrified with imaginary 
fears, as if he were on the watch to punish every casual 
error, — To be immutable and impeccable belongs not to 
humanity. He, who made us, best knows of what we are 
made. Our compassionate High Priest will bear with 
much infirmity, will pardon much involuntary weakness. 

But knowing, as every man must know who looks into 
his own heart, the difficulties he has from the intervention 
of his evil tempers, in serving God faithfully, and still how- 
ever earnestly desirous of serving him, is it not to be 
lamented that he is not more solicitous to remove his hin- 
drances by trying to avoid those inferior sins, and resisting 
those lesser temptations, and practising those smaller vir- 
tues, the neglect of which obstructs his way, and keeps 
him back in the performance of higher duties. Instead of 
little renunciations being grievous, and petty self-denials a 
hardship, they in reality soflen grievances, diminish hard- 
ship. They are the private drill which trains for public 
service. 

If, as we have repeatedly observed, the principle is the 
test of the action, we are hourly furnished with occasions 
of showing our piety by the spirit in which the quiet unob- 
served actions of life are performed. The sacrifices may 
be too little to be observed, except by him to whom they 
are offered. But small solicitudes, and demonstrations of 
attachment, scarcely perceptible to any eye but his for 
whom they are made, bear the true character of love to 
God, as they are the infallible marks of affection to our 
fellov/ creatures. 

By enjoining small duties, the spirit of which is every 



1 12 SELF-EXAMINATION. 

where implied in the Gospel, God, as it were, seems con- 
triving to render the great ones easy to us. He makes 
the light yoke of Christ still lighter, not by abridging duty, 
but by increasing its facility through its familiarity. 
These little habits at once indicate the sentiment of the 
soul and improve it. 

It is an awful consideration, and one which every Chris- 
tian should bring home to his own bosom, whether small 
faults wilfully persisted in, may not in time not only dim 
the light of conscience, but extinguish the spirit of grace: 
whether the power of resistance against great sins may not 
be finally withdrawn as a just punishment for having neg- 
lected to exert it against small ones. 

Let us endeavor to maintain in our minds the awful im- 
pression, that perhaps among the first objects which may 
meet our eyes when we open them on the eternal world, 
may be that tremendous book, in which, together with 
our great and actual sins, may be recorded in no less 
prominent characters, the ample page of omissions, of 
neglected opportunities, and even of fruitless good inten- 
tions, of which indolence, indecision, thoughtlessness, 
vanity, trifling and procrastination, concurred to frustrate 
the execution. 



CHAP. XII. 

Self-Examination. 

In this age of general inquiry, every kind of ignorance 
is esteemed dishonorable. In almost every sort of know- 
ledge there is a competition for superiority. Intellectual 
attainments are never to be undervalued. Learning is the 
best human thing. All knowledge is excellent as far as it 
goes, and as long as it lasts. But how short is the period 
before "tongues shall cease, and knowledge shall vanish 
away!" 

Shall we then esteem it dishonorable to be ignorant in 
any thing which relates to life and literature, to taste and 
science, and not feel ashamed to live in ignorance of our 
own hearts? 

To have a flourishing estate and a mind in disorder; to 
keep exact accounts with a steward, and no reckoning 



SELF-EXAMINATION. 



with our Maker; to have an accurate knowledge of loss or 
gain in our business, and to remain utterly ignorant wheth- 
er our spiritual concerns are improving or declining; to be 
cautious in ascertaining at the end of every year how 
much we have increased or diminished our fortune, and to 
be careless whether we have incurred profit or loss' in faith 
and holiness, is a wretched miscalculation of the compara- 
tive value of things. To bestow our attention on objects 
m an inverse proportion to their importance, is surely no 
proof that our learning has improved our judgment. 

That deep thinker and acute reasoner, Dr*! Barrow, has 
remarked that "it is a pecuHar excellency of human 
nature, and which distinguishes man from the inferior 
creatures more than bare reason itself, that he can reflect 
upon all that is done within him, can discern the tenden- 
cies of his soul, and is acquainted with his own purposes." 
This distinguishing faculty of self-inspection would not 
have been conferred on man, if it had not been intended 
that it should be in habitual operation. It is surely, as we 
before observed, as much a common law of prudence, to 
look well to our spiritual as to our worldly possessions. 
We have appetites to control, imaginations to restrain, 
tempers to regulate, passions to subdue, and how can this 
mternal v/ork be effected, how can our thoughts be kept 
within due bounds, how can a proper bias be given to the 
afl^ections, how can "the little state of man " be preserved 
from continual insurrection, how can this restraining power 
be maintained, if this capacity of discerning, if this faculty 
of inspecting be not kept in regular exercise? Without 
constant discipline, imagination will become an outlaw, 
conscience an attainted rebel. 

This inward eye, this power of introversion, is given us 
ff3r a continual watch upon the soul. On an unremitted 
vigilance over its interior motions, those fruitful seeds of 
action, those prolific principles of vice and virtue, will 
depend both the formation and the growth of our moral 
and religious character. A superficial glance is not enough 
for a thmg so deep, an unsteady view will not suffice for 
a thmg so wavering, nor a casual look for a thing so 
deceitful as the human heart. A partial inspection on 
any one side, will not be enough for an object which musi 
be observed under a variety of aspects, because it is al- 
ways shifting its position, always changing its appearances. 
We should examine not only our conduct but our opin- 
ions; not only our faults but our prejudices, not only our 



114 SELF-EXAMINATIOIV. 

propensities but our judgments. Our actions themselves 
will be obvious enough ; it is our intentions which require 
the scrutiny. These we should follow up to their remotest 
springs, scrutinize to their deepest recesses, trace through 
their most perplexing windings. And lest we should, in 
our pursuit, wander in uncertainty and blindness, let us 
make use of that guiding clue which the Almighty has fur- 
nished by his word, and by his spirit, for conducting us 
through the intricacies of this labyrinth. " What I know 
not teach Thou me," should be our constant petition in all 
our researches. 

Did we turn our thoughts inward, it would abate much 
of the self-complacency with which we swallow the flat- 
tery of others. Flattery hurts not him who flatters not him- 
self If we examined our motives keenly, we should 
frequently blush at the praises our actions receive. Let 
us then conscientiously inquire not only what we do, 
but whence and why we do it, from what motive and to 
what end. 

Self-inspection is the only means to preserve us from 
self-conceit. We could not surely so very extravagantly 
value a being whom we ourselves should not only see, but 
feel to be so full of faults. Self-acquaintance will give us 
a far more deep and intimate knowledge of our own errors 
than we can possibly have, with all the inquisitiveness of 
an idle curiosity, of the errors of others. We are eager 
-enough to blame them without knowing their motives. We 
are no less eager to vindicate ourselves, though we cannot 
be entirely ignorant of our own. Thus two virtues will be 
acquired by the same act, humility, and candor; an impar- 
tial review of our own infirmities, being the likeliest way 
to make us tender and compassionate to those of others. 

Nor shall we be liable so to overrate our own judgment, 
when we perceive that it often forms such false estimates, 
is so captivated with trifles, so elated with petty successes, 
so dejected with little disappointments. When we hear 
others commend our charity which we know is so cold; 
when others extol our piety which we feel to be so dead; 
when they applaud the energies of our faith, which we 
must know to be so faint and feeble; we cannot possibly 
be so intoxicated with the applauses which never would 
have been given had the applauder known us as we know, 
or ought to know, ourselves. If we contradict him, it may 
be only to draw on ourselves the imputation of a fresh vir- 
tue, humilitv which oerhaps we as little deserve to have 



SELF-EXAMINATION. 115 

ascribed to us as that which we have been renoimcino-. If 
we kept a sharp look out, we should not be proud of praises 
which cannot apply to us, but should rather grieve at the 
involuntary fraud of imposing on others, by tacitly accept- 
ing a character to which we have so little real pretension. 
To be delighted at finding that people think so much better 
of us than we are conscious of deserving, is in effect to 
rejoice in the success of our own deceit. 

We shall also become more patient, more forbearing and 
forgiving, shall better endure the harsh judgment of o'thers 
respecting us, when we perceive that their opinion of us 
nearly coincides with our own real though unacknowledged 
sentiments. There is much less injury incurred by others 
thinking too ill of us, than in our thinking too well of our- 
selves. 

It is evident, then, that to live at random, is not the life 
of a rational, much less of an immortal, least of all of an 
accountable being. To pray occasionally, without a delib- 
erate course of prayer; to be generous without proportion- 
ing our means to our expenditure ; to be liberal without a 
plan, and charitable without a principle; to let the mind 
float on the current of public opinion, lie at the mercy of 
events, for the probable occurrence of which we have made 
no provision; to be every hour liable to death without any 
habitual preparation for it; to carry within us a principle 
which we believe will exist through all the countless ages 
of eternity, and yet to make little inquiry whether that 
eternity is likely to be happy or miserable — all this is an 
inconsiderateness, which, if adopted in the ordinary con- 
cerns of life, would bid fair to ruin a man's reputation for 
common sense; yet of this infatuation he who lives without 
self-examination is absolutely guilty. 

Nothing more plainly shows us what weak, vascillating 
creatures we are, than the difficulty we find in fixing our- 
selves down to the very self-scrutiny we had deliberately 
resolved on. Like the worthless Roman emperor we retire 
to our closet, under the appearance of serious occupation, 
but might now and then he surprised, if not in catching 
flies, yet in pursuits nearly as contemptible. Some trifle 
which we should be ashamed to dwell upon at any time, 
intrudes itself on the moments dedicated to serious thought; 
recollection is interrupted; the whole chain of reflection 
broken, so that the scattered links cannot again be united. 
And so inconsistent are we that we are sometimes not sorry 
to have a plausible pretence for interrupting the very em- 



1 U) SELF-EXAMINATION. 

ployment in which we had just before made it a duty to 
engage. For want of this home acquaintance, we remahi 
in utter ignorance of our inabiUty to meet even the ordinary 
trials of Hfe with cheerfulness; indeed by this neglect we 
confirm that inability. Nursed in the lap of luxury, we 
have an indefinite notion that we have but a loose hold on 
the things of this world, and of the world itself But let 
some accident take away, not the world, but some trifle on 
which we thought we set no value while we possessed it, 
and we find to our astonishment that we hold, not the world 
only, but even this trivial possession, with a pretty tight 
grasp. Such detections of our self-ignorance, if they do 
not serve to wean, ought at least to humble us. 

There is a spurious sort of self-examination which does 
not serve to enlighten, but to blind. A person who has left 
off* some notorious vice, who has softened some shades of 
a glaring sin, or substituted some outward forms in the 
place of open irreligion, looks on his change of character 
with pleasure. He compares himself with what he was, 
and views the alteration with self-complacency. He de- 
ceives himself by taking his standard from his former con- 
duct, or from the character of still worse men, instead of 
taking it from the unerring rule of scripture. He looks 
rather at the discredit than the sinfulness of his former life, 
and being more ashamed of what is disreputable than 
grieved at what is vicious, he is, in this state of shallow 
reformation, more in danger in proportion as he is more in 
credit. He is not aware that it is not having a fault or two 
less that will carry him to heaven, while his heart is still 
glued to the world and estranged from God. 

If we ever look into our hearts at all, we are naturally 
most inclined to it when we think we have been acting 
right. Here inspection gratifies self-love. We have no 
great difficulty in directing our attention to an object, when 
that object presents us with pleasing images. But it is a 
painful effort to compel the mind to turn in on itself, when 
the view only presents subjects for regret and remorse. 
This painful duty however must be performed, and will be 
more salutary in proportion as it is less pleasant. Let us 
establish it into a habit to ruminate on our faults. With 
the recollection of our virtues we need not feed our van- 
ity. They will, if that vanity does not obliterate them, be 
recorded elsewhere. 

We are also most disposed to look at those parts of our 
character which will best bear it, and which consequently 



SELF-EXAMINATION. 117 

least need it: at those parts which afford most self-gratula- 
tion. If a covetous man, for instance, examines himself, 
instead of turning his attention to the peccant part, he ap- 
plies the probe where he knows it will not go very deep; 
he turns from his avarice to that sobriety of which his very 
avarice is perhaps the source. Another, who is the slave 
of passion, fondly rests upon some act of generosity, which 
he considers as a fair commutation for some favorite vice, 
that would cost him more to renounce than he is wilhng to 
part with. We are all too much disposed to dwell on that 
smiling side of the prospect which pleases and deceives us, 
and to shut our eyes upon that part which we do not choose 
to see, because we are resolved not to quit. Self-love al- 
ways holds a screen between the superficial self-examiner 
and his faults. The nominal Christian wraps himself up 
in forms which he makes himself believe are religion. He 
exults in what he does, overlooks what he ought to do, nor 
ever suspects that what is done at all can be done amiss. 

As we are so indolent that we seldom examine a truth 
on more than one side, so we generally take care that it 
shall be that side which shall confirm some old prejudices. 
While we will not take pains to correct those prejudices, 
and to rectify our judgment, lest it should oblige us to dis- 
card a favorite opinion, we are yet as eager to judge, and 
as forward to decide, as if we were fully possessed of the 
grounds on which a sound judgment may be made, and a 
just decision formed. 

We should watch ourselves, whether we observe a sim- 
ple rule of truth and justice, as well in our conversation, 
as in our ordinary transactions; whether we are exact in 
our measures of commendation and censure; whether we 
do not bestow extravagant praise where simple approba- 
tion alone is due; whether we do not withhold commend- 
ation, where, if given, it would support modesty and 
encourage merit; whether what deserves only a slight 
censure, as imprudent, we do not reprobate as immoral; 
whether we do not sometimes affect to overrate ordinary 
merit, in the hope of securing to ourselves the reputation 
of candor, that we may on other occasions, with less sus- 
picion, depreciate established excellence. We extol the 
first, because we fancy that it can come into no competition 
with us, and we derogate from the last, because it obvi- 
ously eclipses us. 

Let us ask ourselves if we are conscientiously upright 
in our estimation of benefits; whether, when we have a 



118 SELF-EXAMINATION 

favor to ask we do not depreciate its value, when we have 
one to grant, we do not aggravate it. 

It is only by scrutinizing the heart that we can know it. 
It is only by knowing the heart that we can reform the life. 
Any careless observer indeed, when his watch goes wrong, 
may see that it does so by casting an eye on the dial plate ; 
but it is only the artist who takes it to pieces, and examines 
every spring and every wheel separately, and who, by as- 
certaining the precise causes of the irregularity, can set 
the machine right, and restore the obstructed movements. 

The illusions of intellectual vision would be materially 
corrected, by a close habit of cultivating an acquaintance 
with our hearts. We fill much too large a space in our 
own imaginations ; we fancy we take up more room in the 
world than Providence assigns to an individual who has to 
divide his allotment with so many millions, who are all of 
equal importance in their own eyes; and who, like us, are 
elbowing others to make room for themselves. Just as in 
the natural world, where every particle of matter would 
stretch itself, and move out of its place, if it were not kept 
in order by surrounding particles; the pressure of other 
parts reduces this to remain in a confinement from which 
it would escape, if it were not thus pressed and acted upon 
on all sides. The conscientious practice we have been 
recommending, would greatly assist in reducing us to our 
proper dimensions, and in limiting us to our proper place. 
We should be astonished, if we could see our real diminu- 
tiveness, and the speck we actually occupy. When shall 
we learn from our own feelings, of how much consequence 
every man is to himself.'' 

Nor must the examination be occasional, but regular. 
Let us not run into long arrears, but settle our accounts 
frequently. Little articles will run up to a large amount, 
if they are not cleared off'. Even our innocent days, as 
we may choose to call them, will not have passed without 
furnishing their contingent. Our deadness in devotion — 
our eagerness for human applause — our care to conceal 
our faults rather than to correct them — our negligent per- 
formance of some relative duty — our imprudence in con- 
versation, especially at table — our inconsideration — our 
driving to the very edge of permitted indulgences — let us 
keep these — let us keep all our num.erous items in small 
sums. Let us examine them while the particulars are 
fresh in our memory, otherwise, however we may flatter 
ourselves that lesser evils will be swallowed up by the 



SELF-EXAMINATION. 119 

greater, we may find when we come to settle the grand 
account, that they will not be the less remembered for not 
having been recorded. 

And let it be one subject of our frequent inquiry, wheth- 
er since we last scrutinized our hearts, our secular affairs, 
or our eternal concerns have had the predominance there. 
We do not mean which of them has occupied most of our 
time, the larger portion of which must, necessarily, to the 
generality, be absorbed in the cares of the present life; 
but on which our affections have been most bent; and es- 
pecially how we have conducted ourselves when there has 
arisen a competition between the interests of both. 

That general burst of sins which so frequently rushes in 
on the consciences of the dying, would be much modera- 
ted by previous habitual self-examination. It will not do 
to repent in the lump. The sorrow must be as circumstan- 
tial as the sin. Indefinite repentance is no repentance. 
And it is one grand use of self-inquiry, to remind us that 
all unforsaken sins are unrepented sins. 

To a Christian there is this substantial comfort attending 
a minute self-inspection, that when he finds fewer sins to 
be noted, and more victories over temptation obtained, he 
has a solid evidence of his advancement, which well re- 
pays his trouble. 

The faithful searcher into his own heart, that " chamber 
of imagery," feels himself in the situation of the prophet*, 
who being conducted in vision from one idol to another, the 
spirit, at sight of each, repeatedly exclaims, " here is an- 
other abomination!" The prophet being commanded to 
dig deeper, the further he penetrated the more evils he 
found, while the spirit continued to cry out, " I will show 
thee yet more abominations." 

Self-examination by detecting self-love, self-denial by 
weakening its power, self-government by reducing its des- 
potism, turns the temper of the soul from its natural bias, 
controls the disorderly appetite, and, under the influence 
of divine grace, in a good measure restores to the man 
that dominion over himself, which God at first gave him 
over the inferior creatures. Desires, passions, and appe- 
tites, are brought to move somewhat more in their appoint- 
ed order, subjects not tyrants. What the Stoics vainly 
pretended to, Christianity effects. It restores man to 
1 dominion over his own will, and in a good measure 

* Ezekiel. 



120 SELF-EXAMINATION. 

enthrones him in that empire which he had forfeited by 
sin. 

He now begins to survey his interior, the awful world 
within; not indeed with self-complacency, but with the 
control of a sovereign; he still finds too much rebellion to 
indulge security, he therefore continues his inspection with 
vigilance, but without perturbation. He continues to ex- 
perience a remainder of insubordination and disorder, but 
this rather solicits to a stricter government than drives him 
to relax his discipline. 

This self-inspection somewhat resembles the correction 
of a literary performance. After many and careful revi- 
sals, though some grosser faults may be done away ; though 
the errors are neither quite so numerous, nor so glaring as 
at first, yet the critic perpetually perceives faults which he 
had not perceived before; negligences appear which he 
had overlooked, and even defects start up which had pass- 
ed on him for beauties. He finds much to amend, and 
even to expunge, in what he had before admired. When 
by rigorous castigation the most acknowledged faults are 
corrected, his critical acumen improved by exercise, and 
a more habitual acquaintance with his subject, still detects 
and will for ever detect, new imperfections. But he nei- 
ther throws aside his work, nor remits his criticism, which 
if it do not make the work perfect, will at least make the 
author humble. Conscious that if it is not quite so bad as 
it was, it is still at an immeasurable distance from the re- 
quired excellence. 

Is it not astonishing that we should go on repeating peri- 
odically, " Try me, O God," while we are yet neglecting 
to try ourselves? Is there not something more like defi- 
ance than devotion, to invite the inspection of Omniscience 
to that heart which we ourselves neglect to inspect ? How 
can a Christian solemnly cry out to the Almighty, " seek 
the ground of my heart, prove me and examine my 
thoughts, and see if there be any ways of wickedness iu 
me," while he himself neglects to " examine his heart," 
is afraid of " proving his thoughts," and dreads to inquire 
if there " be any way of wickedness" in himself, knowing 
that the inquiry ought to lead to the expulsion. 

In our self-inquisition let us fortify our virtue by a rig- 
orous exactness in calling things by their proper names. 
Self-love is particularly ingenious in inventing disguises of 
this kind. Let us lay them open, strip them bare, face 
them, and give them as little quarter as if they were the 



SELF-EXAMINATION. 121 

faults of another. Let us not call wounded pride, delicacy 
Self-love is made up of soft and sickly sensibilities. Not 
that sensibility which melts at the sorrows of others, but 
that which cannot endure the least suffering itself. It is 
alive in every pore where self is concerned. A touch is 
a wound. It is careless in inflicting pain, but exquisitely 
awake in feeling it. It defends itself before it is attacked, 
revenges affronts before they are offered, and resents as an 
insult the very suspicion of an imperfection. 

In order then to unmask our hearts, let us not be 
contented to examine our vices, let us examine our virtues 
also, "those smaller fauHs." Let us scrutinize to the bot- 
tom those qualities and actions which have more particu- 
larly obtained public estimation. Let us inquire if they 
were genuine in the principle, simple in the intention, hon- 
est in. the prosecution. Let us ask ourselves if in some 
admired instances our generosity had no tincture of vanity, 
our charity no taint of ostentation? Whether, when v/e 
did such a right action which brought us credit, we should 
have persisted in doing it, had we foreseen that it would 
incur censure? Do we never deceive ourselves by mista- 
king a constitutional indifference of temper for Christian 
moderation? Do we never construe our love of ease into 
deadness of the world ? Our animal activity into Christian 
zeal? Do we never mistake our obstinacy for firmness, our 
pride for fortitude, our selfishness for feeling, our love of 
controversy for the love of God, our indolence of temper 
for superiority to human applause ? When we have strip- 
ped our good qualities bare; when we have made all due 
deductions for natural temper, easiness of disposition, self- 
interest, desire of admiration, of every extrinsic appendage, 
every illegitimate motive, let us fairly cast up the account, 
and we shall be mortified to see how little there will remain. 
Pride may impose itself upon us even in the shape of re- 
pentance. The humble Christian is grieved at his faults, 
the proud man is angry at them. He is indignant when he 
discovers he has done wrong, not so much because his sin 
offends God, as because it has let him see that he is not 
quite so good as he had tried to make himself believe. 

It is more necessary to excite us to the humbling of our 
pride than to the performance of certain good actions; the 
former is more difficult as it is less pleasant. That very 
pride will of itself stimulate to the performance of many 
things that are laudable. These performances will repro- 
duce pride as thev were produced bv it : whereas humilitv 



122 SELF-EXAMINATION. 

has no outward stimulus. Divine grace alone produces it 
It is so far from being actuated by the love of fame, tha 
it is not humility, till it has laid the desire of fame in the 
dust. 

If an actual virtue consists, as we have frequently had 
occasion to observe, in the dominion over the contrary vice, 
humility is the conquest over pride, charity over selfish- 
ness, not only a victory over the natural temper, but a 
substitution of the opposite quality. This proves that all 
virtue is founded in self-denial, self-denial in self-know- 
ledge, and self-knowledge in self-examination. Pride so 
insinuates itself in all we do, and say, and think, that our 
apparent humility has not seldom its origin in pride. That 
very impatience which we feel at the perception of our 
faults is produced by the astonishment at finding that we 
are not perfect. This sense of our sins should make us 
humble but not desperate. It should teach us to distrust 
every thing in ourselves, and to hope for every thing from 
God. The more we lay open the wounds which sin has 
made, the more earnestly shall we seek the remedy which 
Christianity has provided. 

But instead of seeking tor self-knowledge, we are glan- 
cing about us for grounds of self-exaltation. We almost 
resemble the Pharisee, who with so much self-complacency, 
delivered in the catalogue of his own virtues and other 
men's sins, and, like the Tartars, who think they possess 
the qualities of those they murder, fancied that the sins of 
which he accused the Publican would swell the amount of 
his own good deeds. Like him we take a few items from 
memory, and a few more from imagination. Instead of 
pulling down the edifice which pride has raised, we are 
looking round on our good works for buttresses to prop it 
up. We excuse ourselves from the imputation of many 
faults by alleging that they are common, and by no means 
peculiar to ourselves. This is one of the weakest of our 
deceits. Faults are not less personally ours because 
others commit them. There is divisibility in sin as well as 
in matter. Is it any diminution of our error that others 
are guilty of the same } 

Self-love being a very industrious principle, has gener- 
ally tv/o concerns in hand at the same time. It is as busy 
m concealing our own defects as in detecting those of 
others, especially those of the wise and good. We might 
indeed direct its activity in the latter instance to our own 
advantage, for if the faults of good men are injurious to 



SELF-EXAMIxNATION. 123 

themselves, they might be rendered profitable to us, if we 
were careful to convert them to their true use. But instead 
of turning them into a means of promoting our own watch- 
fulness, we employ them mischievously in two ways. We 
lessen our respect for pious characters when we see the 
infirmities which are blended with their fine qualities, and 
we turn their failings into a justification of our own, which 
are not like theirs overshadowed with virtues. To admire 
the excellences of others without imitating them is fruitless 
admiration, to condemn their errors without avoiding them 
is unprofitable censoriousness. 

When we are compelled by our conscience, to acknow- 
ledge and regret any fault we have recently committed, this 
fault so presses upon our recollection, that we seem to for- 
get that we have any other. This single error fills our 
mind, and we look at it as through a telescope, which, 
while it shows an object, confines the sight to that one ob- 
ject exclusively. Others indeed are more effectually shut 
out, than if we were not examining this. Thus while the 
object in question is magnified, the others are as if they 
did not exist. 

It seems to be established into a kind of system, not to 
profit by any thing without us, and not to cultivate an ac- 
quaintance with any thing within us. Though we are 
perpetually remarking on the defects of others, yet when 
does the remark lead us to study and to root out the same 
defects in our own hearts ? We are almost every day hear- 
ing of the death of others, but does it induce us to reflect 
on death as a thing in which we have an individual con- 
cern? We consider the death of a friend as a loss, but 
seldom apply it as a warning. The death of others we 
lament, the faults of others we censure, but how seldom 
do we make use of the one for our own amendment, or 
of the other for our own preparation!* 

It is the fashion of the times to try experiments in the 
arts, in agriculture, in philosophy. In every science, 
the diligent professor is always afraid there may be some 
secret which he has not yet attained; some occult principle 
which would reward the labor of discovery; something even 
which the assiduous and intelligent have actually found 
out, but which has hitherto eluded his pursuit. And shall 
the Christian stop short in his scrutiny, shall he not exam- 
ine and inquire till he lays hold on the very heart and core 
of religion? 

* For this hint, and a few others on th^ ?ame subject, the Authi)r is in- 
debted to that excellent Christian Moralit;!, M. Nicole. 



124 SELF-EXAMINATION. 

Why should experimental philosophy be the prevailing 
study, and experimental rehgion be branded as the badge 
of enthusiasm, the cant of a hollow profession? Shall we 
never labor to establish the distinction between appearance 
and reality, between studying religion critically and em- 
bracing it practically ? between having our conduct credit- 
able and our heart sanctified? Shall we not aspire to do 
the best things from the highest motives, and elevate our 
aims with our attainments? Why should we remain in the 
vestibule when the sanctuary is open? Why should we 
be contented to dwell in the outer courts, when we are 
invited to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus ? 

Natural reason is not likely to furnish arguments suffi- 
ciently cogent, nor motives sufficiently powerful, to drive 
us to a close self-inspection. Our corruptions foster this 
ignorance. To this they owe their undisputed possession 
of our hearts. No principle short of Christianity is strong 
enough to impel us to a study so disagreeable as that of 
our faults. Of Christianity, humility is the prime grace, 
and this grace can never take root and flourish in a heart 
that lives in ignorance of itself If we do not know the 
greatness and extent of our sins, if we do not know the 
imperfection of our virtues, the fallibility of our best reso- 
lutions, the infirmity of our purest purposes, we cannot be 
humble; if we are not humble, we cannot be Christians. 

But it may be asked, is there to be no end to this vigi- 
lance? Is there no assigned period when this self-denial 
may become unnecessary ? No given point when we may 
be emancipated from this vexatious self-inspection? Is the 
matured Christian to be a slave to the same drudgery as 
the novice ? The true answer is — we may cease to watch, 
when our spiritual enemy ceases to assail. We may be 
off our guard, when there is no longer any temptation with- 
out. We may cease our self-denial, when there is no more 
corruption within. We may give the reins to our imagi- 
nation, when we are sure its tendencies will be towards 
heaven. We may dismiss repentance, when sin is abol- 
ished. We may indulge selfishness, when we can do it 
without danger to our souls. We may neglect prayer, 
when we no longer need the favor of God. We may cease 
to praise him, when he ceases to be gracious to us. To 
discontinue our vigilance at any period short of this, will 
be to defeat all the virtues we have practised on earth, to 
put to hazard all our hopes of happiness in heaven. 



SELF-LOVE. 125 

CHAP. XIII. 

Self-Love . 

"The idol self," says an excellent old divine, * '-has 
made more desolation among men than ever was made in 
those places where idols were served by human sacrifices. 
It has preyed more fiercely on human lives, than Moloch, 
or the Minotaur." 

To worship images is a more obvious, but it is scarcely 
a more degrading idolatry, than to set up self in opposition 
to God. To devote ourselves to this service is as perfect 
slavery as the service of God is perfect freedom. If we 
cannot imitate the sacrifice of Christ in his death, we are 
called upon to imitate the sacrifice of himself in his will. 
Even the Son of God declared, " I came not to do my own 
will, but the will of him who sent me." This was his grand 
lesson, this was his distinguishing character. 

Self-will is the ever flowing fountain of all the evil tem- 
pers which deform our hearts, of all the boiling passions 
which inflame and disorder society; the root of bitterness 
on which all its corrupt fruits grow. We set up our own 
understanding against the wisdom of God, and our own 
passions against the will of God. If we could ascertain 
the precise period when sensuality ceased to govern in the 
animal part of our nature, and pride in the intellectual, that 
period would form the most memorable gera of the Chris- 
tian life; from that moment he begins a new date of liberty 
and happiness; from that stage he sets out on a new career 
of peace, liberty, and virtue. 

Self-love is a Proteus of all shapes, shades, and com- 
plexions. It has the power of dilatation and contraction, 
as best serves the occasion. There is no crevice so small 
through which its subtle essence cannot force its way, no 
space so ample that it cannot stretch itself to fill. It is of 
all degrees of refinement ; so coarse and hungry as to gorge 
itself with the grossest adulation, so fastidious as to require 
a homage as refined as itself; so artful as to elude the de- 
tection of ordinary observers, so specious as to escape the 
observation of the very heart in which it reigns paramount: 
yet, though so extravagant in its appetites, it can adopt a 

* Howe. 



126 SELF-LOVE. 

moderation which imposes, a delicacy which veils its de- 
formity, an artificial character which keeps its real one out 
of sight. 

We are apt to speak of self-love as if it were only a 
symptom, whereas it is the distemper itself; a malignant 
distemper which has possession of the moral constitution, 
of which malady every part of the system participates. In 
direct opposition to the effect produced by the touch of the 
fabled king, which converted the basest materials into gold, 
this corrupting principle pollutes, by coming in contact 
with it, whatever is in itself great and noble. 

Self-love is the centre of the unrenewed heart. This 
stirring principle, as has been observed, serves indeed 

the virtuous mind to wake; 
but it disturbs it from its slumber to ends and purposes di- 
rectly opposite to those assigned to it by our incomparable 
bard. * Self-love is by no means " the small pebble which 
stirs the peaceful lake." It is rather the pent-up wind 
within, which causes the earthquake; it is the tempest 
which agitates the sleeping ocean. Had the image been 
as just as its clothing is beautiful; or, rather, had Mr. 
Pope been as sound a theologian as he was an exquisite 
poet, the allusion in his hands might have conveyed a 
sounder meaning, without losing a particle of its elegance. 
This might have been effected, by only substituting the 
effect for the cause; that is, by making benevolence the 
principle instead of the consequence, and by discarding 
self-love from its central situation in the construction of 
the metaphor. 

But by arraying a beggarly idea in princely robes, he 
knew that his own splendid powers could at any time trans- 
form meanness into majesty, and deformity into beauty. 

After all, however, le vrai est le seul beau. Had he not 
blindly adopted the misleading system of the noble sceptic, 
" his guide, philosopher and friend," he might have trans- 
ferred the shining attributes of the base-born thing which 
he has dressed out with so many graces, to the legitimate 
claimant, benevolence; of which self-love is so far from 
being, as he represents, the moving spring, that they are 
both working in a course of incessant counteraction, the 
spirit striving against the flesh, and the flesh against the 
spirit. 

To Christian benevolence all the happy effects attributed 

* Essay on Man, 1. 362. 



SELF-LOVE. 127 

to self-love might have been fairly traced. It was only to 
dislodge the idol, and make the love of God the centre, 
and the poet's delightful numbers might have conveyed 
truths worthy of so perfect a vehicle. "This centre 
moved," does indeed extend its pervading influence in the 
very manner ascribed to the opposite principle; does in- 
deed spread from its throne in the individual breast, to all 
those successive circles, " wide and more v/ide," of which 
the poet makes self-love the first mover. * 

The apostle James appears to have been of a different 
opinion from the ethic bard; he speaks as if he suspected 
that the pebble stirred the lake a little too roughly. He 
traces this mischievous principle, from its birth to the 
largest extent of its malign influence. The question, 
"whence come wars and fightings among you.^" he an- 
swers by another question — " come they not hence, even 
of your lusts that war in your members?" 

The same pervading spirit which creates hostility be- 
tween nations, creates animosity among neighbors, and 
discord in families. It is the same principle which, having 
in the beginning made "' Cain the first male child," a mur- 
derer in his father's house, has been ever since in perpetu- 
al operation; has been transmitted in one unbroken line of 
succession, through that long chain of crimes of which 
history is composed, to the present triumphant spoiler of 
Europe. — In cultivated societies, laws repress, by punish- 
ing, the overt act in private individuals, i)ut no one thing 
but the Christian religion has ever beer^ devised to cleanse 
the spring. 

" The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately 
wicked, who can know it.'"' This proposition, this interro- 
gation, we read with complacency, and both the aphorism 
and the question being a portion of scripture, we think it 
would not be decent to controvert it. We read it however 

* Self-love thus pushed to social, to divine, 

Gives tliee to make thy neighbor's blessing thine. 
Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to make 
As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake; 
The centre moved, a circle strait succeeds. 
Another still, and still another spreads; 
Friend, parent, neighbor, fust it will embrace, 
His country next, and next all human race. 

The Author hopes to bo forgiven fir these remarks: slie has hazarded them 
for the sake of her more youthful readers. — She iias not forgotten the time 
when, in the admiration of youthful enthusiasm, she never suspected that the 
principle of these finished ver^scs uas le.^.s eKcellent than the poetry. 



128 SELF-LOVE. 

with a secret reservation, that it is only the heart of all the 
rest of the world that is meant, and we rarely make the 
application which the Scripture intended. Each hopes that 
there is one heart which may escape the charge, and he 
makes the single exception in favor of his own. But if the 
exception which every one makes were true, there would 
not be a deceitful or wicked heart in the world. 

As a theory we are ready enough to admire self-know- 
ledge, yet when the practice comes in question, we are as 
blindfold as if our happiness depended on our ignorance. 
To lay hold on a religious truth, and to maintain our hold, 
is no easy matter. Our understandings are not more ready 
to receive than our affections to lose it. We like to have 
an intellectual knowledge of divine things, but to cultivate 
a spiritual acquaintance with them cannot be effected at so 
cheap a rate. We can even more readily force ourselves 
to believe that which has no affinity with our understand- 
ing, than we can bring ourselves to choose that which has 
no interest in our will, no correspondence with our pas- 
sions. One of the first duties of a Christian is to endeavor 
to conquer this antipathy to the self denying doctrines 
against which the human heart so sturdily holds out. The 
learned take incredible pains for the acquisition of know- 
ledge. The philosopher cheerfully consumes the midnight 
oil in his laborious pursuits; he willingly sacrifices food 
and rest to conquer a difficulty in science. Here the la- 
bor is pleasant, the fatigue is grateful, the very difficulty is 
not without its charms. Why do we feel so differently in 
our religious pursuits? Because in the most operose hu- 
man studies, there is no contradiction of self, there is no 
opposition to the will, there is no combat of the affections. 
If the passions are at all implicated, if self-love is at all 
concerned, it is rather in the way of gratification than of 
opposition. 

There is such a thing as a mechanical Christianity. 
There are good imitations of religion, so well executed and 
so resembling as not only to deceive the spectator but the 
artist. Self-love in its various artifices to deceive us to 
our ruin, sometimes makes use of a means, which if prop- 
erly used, is one of the most beneficial that can be devised 
to preserve us from its influence, the perusal of pious 
books. 

But these very books in the hands of the ignorant, the 
indolent, and the self-satisfied, produce an effect directly 
contrary to that which they were intended to produce and 



SELF-LOVE. 129 

which they actually do produce on minds prepared for the 
perusal. They inflate where they were intended to humble. 
As some hypocondriacs, who amuse their melancholy hours 
with consulting indiscriminately every medical book which 
falls in their way, fancy they find their own case in every 
page, their own ailment in the ailment of every patient, 
till they believe they actually feel every pain of which they 
read, though the work, treats of cases diametrically oppo- 
site to their own — so the religious valetudinarian, as un- 
reasonably elated as the others are depressed, reads books 
descriptive of a highly religious state, with the same un- 
happy self application. He feels his spiritual pulse by a 
watch, that has no movements in common with it, yet he 
fancies that they go exactly alike. He dwells with delight 
on symptoms, not one of which belongs to him, and flatters 
himself with their supposed agreement. He observes in 
those books what are the signs of grace, and he observes 
them with complete self application; he traces what are 
the evidences of being in God's favor, and those evidences 
he finds in himself 

Self-ignorance appropriates truths faithfully stated but 
wholly inapplicable. The presumption of the novice ar- 
rogates to itself the experience of the advanced Christian. 
He is persuaded that it is his own case, and seizes on the 
consolations which belong only to the most elevated piety. 
Self-knowledge would correct the judgment. It would 
teach us to use the pattern held out as an original to copy, 
instead of leading us to fancy that we are already wrought 
into the assimilation. It would teach us when we read the 
history of an established Christian, to labor after a confor- 
m.ity to it, instead of mistaking it for the delineation of our 
own character. 

Human prudence, daily experience, self-love, all teach 
us to distrust others, but all motives combined do not teach 
us to distrust ourselves; we confide unreservedly in our 
own heart, though as a guide it misleads, as a counsellor 
it betrays. It is both party and judge. As the one, it 
blinds through ignorance, as the other, it acquits through 
partiality. 

Though we value ourselves upon our discretion in not 
confiding too implicitly in others, yet it would be difficult 
to find any friend, any neighbor, or even any enemy who 
has deceived us so often as we have deceived ourselves. 
If an acquaintance betray us, we take warning, are on the 
watch, and are careful not to trust him again. But how- 



130 SELF-LOVE. 

ever frequently the bosom traitor deceive and mislead, no 
such determined stand is made against his treachery: We 
lie as open to his next assault as if he had never betrayed 
us. We do not profit by the remembrance of the past de- 
lusion to guard against the future. 

Yet if another deceive us, it is only in matters respect- 
ing this world, but we deceive ourselves in things of eter- 
nal moment. The treachery of others can only affect our 
fortune or our fame, or at worst our peace; but the inter- 
nal traitor may mislead us to our everlasting destruction. 
We are too much disposed to suspect others who probably 
have neither the inclination nor the power to injure us, but 
we seldom suspect our own heart though it possesses and 
employs both. We ought however fairly to distinguish 
between the simple vanity and the hypocrisy of self-love. 
Those who content themselves with talking as if the praise 
of virtue implied the practice, and who expect to be thought 
good, because they commend goodness, only propagate the 
deceit which has misled themselves, whereas hypocrisy 
does not even believe herself She has deeper motives, 
she has designs to answer, competitions to promote, projects 
to effect. But mere vanity can subsist on the thin air of 
the admiration she solicits, without intending to get any 
thing by it. She is gratuitous in her loquacity; for she is 
ready to display her own merit to those who have nothing 
to give in return, whose applause brings no profit, and 
whose censure no disgrace. 

It is not strange that we should judge of things not ac- 
cording to truth, but according to the opinion of others in 
cases foreign to ourselves, cases on which we have no cor- 
rect means of determining; but we do it in things which 
relate immediately to ourselves, thus making not truth but 
the opinion of others our standard in points which others 
cannot know, and of which we ought not to be ignorant. 
We are as fond of the applauses even of the upper gallery 
as the dramatic poet. Like him we affect to despise the 
mob considered as individual judges, yet as a mass, we 
covet their applause. Like him we feel strengthened by 
the number of voices in our favor, and are less anxious 
about the goodness of the work, than the loudness of the 
acclamation. Success is merit in the eye of both. 

But even though we may put more refinement into our 
self-love, it is self-love still. No subtlety of reasoning, no 
elegance of taste, though it may disguise the radical prin- 
ciple, can destroy it. We are still too much in love with 



SELF-LOVE. 131 

flattery, even though we may profess to despise that praise 
which depends on the acclamations of the vulgar. But if 
we are over anxious for the admiration of the better born 
and the better bred, this by no means proves that we are 
not vain, it only proves that our vanity has a better taste. 
Our appetite is not coarse enough perhaps to relish that 
popularity which ordinary ambition covets, but do we nev- 
er feed in secret on the applauses of more distinguishing 
judges? Is not their having extolled our merit a confirma- 
tion of their discernment, and the chief ground of our 
high opinion of theirs'^ 

But if any circumstance arise to induce them to change 
the too favorable opinion which they had formed of us, 
though their general character remain unimpeachable, and 
their general conduct as meritorious as when we most ad- 
mired them, do we not begin to judge them unfavorably? 
Do we not begin to question their claim to that discern- 
ment which we had ascribed to them, to guspect the sound- 
ness of their judgment which we had so loudly commended? 
It is well if we do not entertain some doubt of the recti- 
tude of their principles, as we probably do of the reality 
of their friendship. We do not candidly allow for the ef- 
fect which prejudice, which misrepresentation, which party 
may produce even on an upright mind. Still less does it 
enter into our calculation that we may actually have deser- 
ved their disapprobation, that something in our conduct 
may have incurred the change in theirs. 

It is no low attainment to detect this lurking injustice in 
our hearts, to strive against it, to pray against it, and espe- 
cially to conquer it. We may reckon that we have acquir- 
ed a sound principle of integrity when prejudice no longer 
blinds our judgment, nor resentment biasses our justice; 
when we do not make our opinion of another, depend on 
the opinion which we conceive he entertains of us. We 
must keep a just measure, and hold an even balance in judg- 
ing of ourselves as well as of others. We must have no 
false estimate which shall incline to condemnation without, 
or to partiality within. The examining principle must be 
kept sound or our determination will not be exact. It must be 
at once a testimony of our rectitude, and an incentive to it. 

In order to improve this principle, we should make it a 
test of our sincerity to search out and to commend the 
good qualities of those who do not like us. But this must 
be done without affectation, and without insincerity. We 
must practise no false candor. If v;o are not on our guard 



132 SELF-LOVE. 

we may be laying out for the praise of generosity, while 
we are only exercising a simple act of justice. These re- 
finements of self-love are the dangers only of spirits of the 
higher order, but to such they are dangers. 

The ingenuity of self-deceit is inexhaustible. If people 
extol us, we feel our good opinion of ourselves confirmed. 
If they dislike us, we do not think the worse of ourselves, 
but of them; it is not ive who want merit, but they who 
want penetration. If we cannot refuse them discernment, 
we persuade ourselves that they are not so much insensible 
to our worth as envious of it. There is no shift, strata- 
gem, or device, which we do not employ to make us stand 
well with ourselves. 

We are too apt to calculate our own character unfairly 
in two ways: by referring to some one signal act of gener- 
osity, as if such acts were the common habit of our lives, 
and by treating our habitual faults, not as common habits, 
but occasional failures. There is scarcely any fault in an- 
other which offends us more than vanity, though perhaps 
there is none that really injures us so little. We have no 
patience that another should be as full of self-love as we 
allow ourselves to be; so full of himself as to have little 
leisure to attend to us. We are particularly quick-sighted 
to the smallest of his imperfections which interferes with 
our self-esteem, while we are lenient to his more grave 
offences, which, by not coming in contact with our vanity, 
do not shock our self-love. 

Is it not strange, that though v/e love ourselves so much 
better than we love any other person, yet there is hardly 
one, however little v/e value him, that we had not rather 
be alone with, that we had not rather converse with, that 
we had not rather come to close quarters with, than 
ourselves? Scarcely one whose private history, whose 
thoughts, feelings, actions, and motives, we had not rather 
pry into than our own? Do we not use every art and con- 
trivance to avoid getting at the truth of our own character? 
Do we not endeavor to keep ourselves ignorant of what 
every one else knov/s respecting our faults, and do we not 
account that man our enemy, who takes on himself the 
best office of a friend, that of opening to us our real state 
and condition? 

The little satisfaction people find when they faithfully 
look within, makes them fly more eagerly to things with- 
out. Early practice and long habit might conquer the 
repugnanc<^ to look at homo, and the fondness for looking 



SELF-LOVE. 133 

abroad. Familiarity often makes us pleased with the soci- 
ety, which, while strangers, we dreaded. Intimacy with 
ourselves might produce a similar effect. 

We might perhaps collect a tolerably just knowledge of 
our own character, could we ascertain the 7^eal opinion of 
others respecting us; but that opinion being, except in a 
moment of resentment, carefully kept from us by our own 
precautions, profits us nothing. We do not choose to know 
their secret sentiments, because we do not choose to be 
cured of our error; because we "love darkness rather 
than light;" because we conceive that in parting with our 
vanity, we should part with the only comfort we have, that 
of being ignorant of our own faults. 

Self-knovdedge would materially contribute to our hap- 
piness, by curing us of that self-sufficiency which is con- 
tinually exposing us to mortifications. The hourly rubs 
and vexations which pride undergoes is far more than an 
equivalent for the short intoxications of pleasure which it 
snatches. 

The enemy within is always in a confederacy with the 
enemy without, whether that enemy be the world, or the 
devil. The domestic foe accommodates itself to their al- 
lurements, flatters our weaknesses, throws a veil over our 
vices, tarnishes our good deeds, gilds our bad ones, hood- 
v/inks our judgment, and works hard to conceal our inter- 
nal springs of action. 

Self-love has the talent of imitating whatever the world 
admires, even though it should happen to be the Christian 
virtues. It leads us, from our regard to reputation, to 
avoid all vices, not only which would bring punishment, 
but discredit, by the commission. It can even assume the 
zeal, and copy the activity, of Christian charity. It com- 
municates to our conduct those proprieties and graces, 
manifested in the conduct of those who are actuated by a 
sounder motive. The difference lies in the ends proposed. 
The object of the one is to please God, of the other to ob- 
tain the praise of man. 

Self-love, judging of the feelings of others by its own, 
is aware that nothing excites so much odium as its own 
character would do, if nakedly exhibited. We feel, by 
our own disgust at its exhibition in others, how much dis- 
gust we ourselves should excite, did we not invest it with 
the soft garb of gentle manners and a polished address. 
When therefore we would not condescend "to take the 
lowest olace. to think others better than ourselves, tf be 



134 self-lovp:. 

courteous and pitiful," on the true Scripture ground, polite- 
ness steps in as the accredited substitute of humility, and 
the counterfeit brilliant is willingly worn by those who will 
not be at the expense of the jewel. 

There is a certain elegance of mind which will often 
restrain a well-bred man from sordid pleasures and gross 
voluptuousness. He will be led by his good taste perhaps 
not only to abhor the excesses of vice, but to admire the 
theory of virtue. But it is only the crapule of vice which 
he will abhor. Exquisite gratifications, sober luxury, in- 
cessant, but not unmeasured enjoyment, form the principle 
of his plan of life, and if he observe a temperance in his 
pleasures, it is only because excess would take off the 
edge, destroy the zest, and abridge the gratification. By 
resisting gross vice, he flatters himself that he is a tempe- 
rate man, and that he has made all the sacrifices which 
self-denial imposes. Inwardly satisfied, he compares him- 
self with those who have sunk into coarser indulgences, 
enjoys his own superiority in health, credit, and unimpaired 
faculties, and triumphs in the dignity of his own character. 

There is, if the expression may be allowed, a sort of 
religious self-deceit, an affectation of humility, which is 
in reality full of self, which is entirely occupied with self, 
which resolves all importance into what concerns self, 
which only looks at things as they refer to self. This re- 
ligious vanity operates in two ways. We not only fly out 
at the imputation of the smallest individual fault, while at 
the same time we afTect to charge ourselves with more 
corruption than is attributed to us; but on the other hand, 
while we are lamenting our general want of all goodness, 
we fight for every particle that is disputed. The one qual- 
ity that is in question always happens to be the very one to 
which we must lay claim, hov/ever deficient in others. Thus, 
while renouncing the pretension to every virtue, " we de- 
preciate ourselves into all." We had rather talk even of 
our faults, than not occupy the foreground of the canvas. 

Humility does not consist in telling our faults, but in 
bearing to be told of them, in hearing them patiently and 
even thankfully ; in correcting ourselves when told, in not 
hating those who tell us of them. If we were little in our 
own eyes, and felt our real insignificance, we should avoid 
false humility as much as mere obvious vanity; but we sel- 
dom dwell on our faults except in a general way, and rare- 
ly on those of which we are really guilty. We do it in the 
hope of being contradicted, and thus of bcino; ronfirmed in 



SELF-LOVE, 135 

the secret good opinion we entertain of ourselves. It is 
not enough that we inveigh against ourselves, we must in a 
manner forget ourselves. This oblivion of self from a pure 
principle, would go further towards our advancement in 
Christian virtue, than the most splendid actions performed 
on the opposite ground. 

That self-knowledge which teaches us humility, teaches 
us compassion also. The sick pity the sick. They sym- 
pathize with the disorder of which they feel the symptoms 
in themselves. Self-knowledge also checks injustice, by 
establishing the equitable principle of showing the kind- 
ness we expect to receive; it represses ambition, by con- 
vincing us how little we are entitled to superiority; it 
renders adversity profitable, by letting us see how much 
we deserve it; it makes prosperity safe, by directing our 
hearts to him who confers it, instead of receiving it as the 
consequence of our own desert. 

We even carry our self-importance to the foot of the 
throne of God. When prostrate there we are not required 
it is true, to forget ourselves, but we are required to re- 
member HIM. W^e have indeed much sin to lament, but 
we have also much mercy to adore. We have much to 
ask, but we have likewise much to acknowledge: Yet our 
infinite obligations to God do not fill our hearts half as 
much as a petty uneasiness of our own; nor his infinite 
perfections as much as our own smallest want. 

The great, the only effectual antidote to self-love, is to 
get the love of God and of our neighbor firmly rooted in 
the heart. Yet let us ever bear in mind, that dependence 
on our fellow creatures is as carefully to be avoided as love 
of them is to be cultivated. There is none but God on 
whom the principles of love and dependence form but one 
duty. 



136 CONDUCT OF CHRISTIANS 



CHAP. XI V^. 

On the conduct of Christians in their intercourse with the 
Irreligious. 

The combination of integrity with discretion is the pre- 
cise point at which a serious Christian must aim in his 
intercourse, and especially in his debates on religion, with 
men of the opposite description. He must consider him- 
self as not only having his own reputation but the honor of 
religion in his keeping. While he must on the one hand 
"set his face as a flint" against any thing that may be 
construed into compromise or evasion, into denying or 
concealing any Christian truth, or shrinking from any 
commanded duty, in order to conciliate favor; he must, on 
the other hand, be scrupulously careful never to maintain 
a Christian doctrine with an unchristian temper. In en- 
deavoring to convince, he must be cautious not needlessly 
to irritate. He must distinguish between the honor of 
God and the pride of his own character, and never be per- 
tinaciously supporting the one, under the pretence that he 
is only maintaining the other. The dislike thus excited 
against the disputant, is at once transferred to the princi- 
ple, and the adversary's unfavorable opinion of religion is 
augmented by the faults of its champion. At the same 
time the intemperate champion puts it out of his power to 
be of any future service to the man whom his offensive 
manners have disgusted. 

A serious Christian, it is true, feels an honest indigna- 
tion at hearing those truths on which his everlasting hopes 
depend, lightly treated. He cannot but feel his heart rise 
at the affront offered to his Maker. But instead of calling 
down fire from heaven on the reviler's head, he will raise 
a secret supplication to the God of heaven in his favor, 
which, if it change not the heart of his opponent, will not 
only tranquilize his own, but soften it towards his adversa- 
ry; for we cannot easily hate the man for whom we pray. 

He who advocates the sacred cause of Christianity, 
should be particularly aware of fancying that his being 
religious will atone for his being disagreeable; that his 
orthodoxy will justify his uncharitableness, or his zeal 
make up for his indiscretion. He must not persuade him- 
self tliat he has been serving God, when he has onlv been 



WITH THE IRRELIGIOUS. 137 

gratifying his own resentment; when he has actually by a 
fiery defence prejudiced the cause which he might perhaps 
have advanced by temperate argument, and persuasive 
mildness. Even a judicious silence under great provoca- 
tion is, in a warm temper, real forbearance. And though 
"to keep silence from good words" may be pain and 
grief, yet the pain and grief must be borne, and the silence 
must be observed. 

We sometimes see imprudent religionists glory in the 
attacks which their own indiscretion has invited. With 
more vanity than truth they apply the strong and ill chosen 
term of persecution, to the sneers and ridicule which some 
impropriety of manner or some inadvertency of their own 
has occasioned. Now and then it is to be feared the cen- 
sure may be deserved, and the high professor may possi- 
bly be but an indifferent moralist. Even a good man, a 
point we are not sufficiently ready to concede, may have 
been blameable in some instance, on which his censurers 
will naturally have kept a keen eye. On these occasions 
how forcibly does the pointed caution recur, which was 
implied by the divine moralist on the mount, and enforced 
by the apostle Peter, to distinguish for whose sake we are 
calumniated. 

By the way, this sharp look out of worldly men on the 
professors of religion, is not without very important uses. 
While it serves to promote circumspection in the real 
Christian; the detection to which it leads in the case of 
the hollow professor, forms a broad and useful line of dis- 
tinction between two classes of characters so essentially 
distinct, and yet so frequently, so unjustly, and so malevo- 
lently confounded. 

The world believes, or at least affects to believe, that 
the correct and elegant minded religious man is blind to 
those errors and infirmities, that eccentricity and bad 
taste, that propensity to diverge from the strait line of pru- 
dence, which is discernible in some pious but ill-judging 
nien, and which delight and gratify the enemies of true 
piety, as furnishing them with so plausible a ground for 
censure. But if the more judicious and better informed 
Christian bears with these infirmities, it is not that he does 
not clearly perceive and entirely condemn them. But he 
bears with what he disapproves for the sake of the zeal, 
the sincerity, the general usefulness of these defective 
characters: fhese good qualities are totally overlooked by 
the censurer, who is ever on the watch to aggravate the 



138 CONDUCT OF CHRISTIANS 

failings which christian charity laments without extenua- 
ting. It bears with them from the belief that impropriety 
is less mischievous than carelessness, a bad judgment than 
a bad heart, and some little excesses of zeal than gross 
immorality, or total indifference. 

We are not ignorant how much truth itself offends, 
though unassociated with any thing that is displeasing. 
This furnishes an important rule not to add to the unavoid- 
able offence, by mixing the faults of our own character 
with the cause we support; because we may be certain 
that the enemy will take care never to separate them. He 
will always voluntarily maintain the pernicious association 
in his own mind. He will never think or speak of religion 
without connecting with it the real or imputed bad quali- 
ties of all the religious men he knows or has heard of. 

Let not then the friends of truth unnecessarily increase 
the number of her enemies. Let her not have at once to 
sustain the assaults to which her divine character inevita- 
bly subjects her, and the obloquy to which the infirmi- 
ties and foibles of her injudicious, and if there are any 
such, her unworthy champions expose her. 

But we sometimes justify our rash violence under color 
that our correct piety cannot endure the faults of others. 
The Pharisees overflowing with wickedness themselves, 
made the exactness of their own virtue a pretence for look- 
ing with horror on the publicans, whom our Saviour 
regarded with compassionate tenderness, while he repro- 
bate-d with keen severity the sins and especially the censo- 
riousness of their accusers. " Charity," says an admira- 
ble French writer, " is that law which Jesus Christ came 
down to bring into the world, to repair the divisions which 
sin has introduced into it; to be the proof of the reconcilia- 
tion of man with God, by bringing him into obedience to 
the divine law; to reconcile him to himself by subjugating 
his passions to his reason; and in fine to reconcile him to 
all mankind, by curing him of the desire to domineer over 
them." 

But we put it out of our power to become the instru- 
ments of God in promoting the spiritual good of any one, 
if we stop up the avenue to his heart by violence or impru- 
dence. We not only put it of our power to do good to all 
whom we disgust, but are we not liable to some responsi- 
bility for the failure of all the good we might have done 
them, had we not forfeited our influence by our indiscre- 
tion.'^ What we do not to others in relieving their spirit- 



WITH THE IRRELIGIOUS. 139 

ual as well as bodily wants, Christ will punish as not having 
been done to himself. This is one of the cases in which 
our own reputation is so inseparably connected with that 
of religion, that we should be tender of one for the sake of 
the other. 

The modes of doing good in society are various. We 
should sharpen our discernment to discover them, and our 
zeal to put them in practice. If we cannot open a man's 
eyes to the truth of religion by our arguments, we may 
perhaps open them to its beauty by our moderation. 
Though he may dislike Christianity in itself, he may, from 
admiring the forbearance of the Christian, be at last led to 
admire the principle from which it flowed. If he have 
hitherto refused to listen to the written evidences of reli- 
gion, the temper of her advocate may be a new evidence 
of so engaging a kind, that his heart may be opened by 
the sweetness of the one to the verities of the other. He 
will at least be brought to allow that that religion cannot 
be very bad, the fruits of which are so amiable. The 
conduct of the disciple may in time bring him to the feet of 
the master. A new combination may be formed in his 
mind. He may begin to see what he had supposed antip- 
athies, reconciled, to unite two things which he thought as 
impossible to be brought together as the two poles, he may 
begin to couple candor with Christianity. 

But if the mild advocate fail to convince, he may per- 
suade; even if he fail to persuade, he will at least leave 
on the mind of the adversary such favorable impressions, as 
may induce him to inquire farther. He may be able to 
employ on some future occasion, to more effectual purpose, 
the credit which his forbearance will have obtained for 
him, whereas uncharitable vehemence will probably have 
forever shut the ears and closed the heart of his opponent 
against any future intercourse. 

But even if the temperate pleader should not be so hap- 
py as to produce any considerable effect on the mind of his 
antagonist, he is in any case promoting the interests of his 
own soul; he is at least imitating the faith and patience of 
the saints; he is cultivating that " meek and quiet spirit " 
of which his blessed master gave at once the rule, the in- 
junction, and the praise. 

If "all bitterness, and clamor, and malice, and evil 
speaking " are expressly forbidden in ordinary cases, sure- 
ly the prohibition must more peculiarly apply to the case 
of religious controversialists. Suppose Voltaire and Hume 



140 CONDUCT OF CHRISTIANS 

had been left to take their measure of our religion (as one 
would really suppose they had) from the defences of Chris- 
tianity by their very able contemporary Bishop Warburton. 
— When they saw this Goliath in talents and learning, 
dealing about his ponderous blows, attacking with the 
same powerful weapons, not the enemies only, but the 
friends of Christianity, who happened to see some points 
in a different Hght from himself; not meeting them as his 
opponents, but pouncing on them as his prey, not seeking 
to defend himself, but tearing them to pieces; waging of- 
fensive war, delighting in unprovoked hostility — when they 
saw him thus advocate the Christian cause with a spirit 
diametrically opposite to Christianity, would they not ex- 
ultingly exclaim, in direct opposition to the exclamation of 
the apostolic age, " see how these Christians hate one 
another!" Whereas had his vast powers of mind and 
astonishing compass of knowledge been sanctified by the 
angelic meekness of Archbishop Leighton, they would 
have been compelled to acknowledge, if Christianity be 
false, it is after all so amiable that it deserves to be true 
Might they not have applied to these two prelates what 
was said of Bossuet and Fenelon, "Tun prouve la Reli- 
gion, Vaulre la fait aimer. ^^ 

If we studiously contrived how to furnish the most com- 
plete triumph to infidels, contentious theology would be 
our best contrivance. They enjoy the wounds the com- 
batants inflict on each other, not so much from the per- 
sonal injury which either might sustain, as from the con- 
viction that every attack, however it may terminate, weak- 
ens the common cause. In all engagements with a foreign 
foe, they know that Christianity must come off triumphant- 
ly. All their hopes are founded on a civil war. 

If a forbearing temper should be maintained towards the 
irreligious, how much more by the professors of rehgion 
towards each other. As it is a lamentable instance of hu- 
man infirmity that there is often much hostility carried on 
by good men who profess the same faith; so it is a striking 
proof of the litigious nature of man that this spirit is less 
excited by broad distinctions, (such as conscience ought 
not to reconcile) than by shades of opinion, shades so i'^w 
and slight, that the world would not know they existed at 
all, if by their animosities the disputants were not so impa- 
tient to inform it. 

While we should never withhold a clear and honest 
avowal of the great principles of our religion, let us dis 



WITH THE IRRELIGIOUS. 141 

creetiy avoid dwelling on inconsiderable distinctions, on 
which, as they do not affect the essentials either of faith or 
practice, we may allow another to maintain his opinion, 
while we steadily hold fast our own. But in religious as 
in military warfare, it almost seems as if the hostihty were 
great in proportion to the littleness of the point contested. 
We all remember when two great nations were on the 
point of being involved in war for a spot of ground* in 
another hemisphere, so little known that the very name 
had scarcely reached us; so inconsiderable that its posses- 
sion would have added nothing to the strength of either. 
In civil too, as well as in national and theological disputes, 
there is olten most stress laid on the most indifferent 
things. Why would the Spanish Government some years 
ago so little consult the prejudices of the people, as nearly 
to produce an insurrection, by issuing an edict for them to 
relinquish the ancient national dress .^ Why was the secu- 
rity of the state, and the lives of the subjects put to hazard 
tor a cloak and a jerkin? For the obstinate people made 
as firm a stand against this trifling requisition, as they 
could have made for the preservation of their civil or reli- 
gious liberty, if they had been so happy as to possess either 
— a stand as firm as they are now nobly making in defence 
of their country and their independence. 

Without invidiously enumerating any of the narrowing 
names which split Christianity in pieces, and which so 
unhappily drive the subjects of the Prince of peace into 
interminable war, and range them into so many hostile 
bands, not against the common enemy, but against each 
other; we cannot forbear regretting that less temper is 
preserved amongst these near neighbors in local situation 
and in Christian truth, than if the attack of either were 
levelled at Jews, Turks, or Infidels. 

Is this that catholic spirit which embraces with the love 
of charity, though not of approbation, the whole offspring 
of our common Father — which in the arms of its large 
affection, without vindicating their faults or adopting their 
opinions, "takes every creature in of every kind," and 
which like its gracious Author, " would not that any thing 
should perish? " 

The preference of remote to approximating opinions is, 
however, by no means confined to the religious world. 
The author of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, 

* Nootka Sound. 



142 CONDUCT OF CHRISTIANS 

though so passionate an admirer of the prophet of Arabia 
as to raise a suspicion of his own Islamism; though so 
rapturous an eulogist of the apostate JuHan as to raise a 
suspicion of his own polytheism, yet with an inconsistency 
not uncommon to unbelief he treats the stout orthodoxy of 
the vehement Athanasius, with more respect than he 
shows to the " scanty creed " of a contemporary philoso- 
pher and theologian, whose cold and comfortless doctrines 
were much less removed from his own. 

Might not the twelve monsters which even the incredible 
strength and labor of Hercules found so hard to subdue, be 
interpreted as an ingenious allegory, by which were meant 
twelve popular prejudices? But though the hero went forth 
armed preternaturally, the goddess of wisdom herself fur- 
nishing him with his helmet, and the god of eloquence with 
his arrows, yet it is not certain that he conquered the 7'eli- 
gious prejudices, not of the world, but even of Argos and 
Mycenae; at least they were not among his earlier con- 
quests; they were not serpents which an infant hand could 
strangle. They were more probably the fruitful hydra, 
which lost nothing by losing a head, a new head always 
starting up to supply the incessant decapitation. But 
though he slew the animal at last, might not its envenomed 
gore in which his arrows were dipped, be the perennial 
fountain in which persecuting bigotry, harsh intolerance, 
and polemical acrimony, have continued to dip their pens? 

It is a delicate point to hit upon, neither to vindicate the 
truth in so coarse a manner as to excite a prejudice against 
it, nor to make any concessions in the hope of obtaining 
popularity. "If it be possible as much as lieth in you, 
live peaceably with all men" can no more mean that we 
should exercise that false candor which conciliates at the 
expense of sincerity, than that we should defend truth with 
so intolerant a spirit, as to injure the cause by discrediting 
the advocate. 

As the apostle beautifully obtests his brethren, not by 
the power and dignity, but " by the meekness and gentle- 
ness of Christ," so every Christian should adorn his doc- 
trine by the same endearing qualities, evincing by the 
brightness of the polish, the solidity of the substance. But 
he will carefully avoid adopting the external appearance 
of these amiable tempers as substitutes for piety, when 
they are only its ornaments. Condescending manners 
may be one of the numberless modifications of selfishness, 
and reputation is thus often obtained, where it is not fairly 



WITH THE IRRELIGIOUS. 143 

earned. Carefully to examine whether he please others 
for their good to edification, or in order to gain praise and 
popularity, is the bounden duty of a Christian. 

We should not be angry with the blind for not seeing, 
nor with the proud for not acknowledging their blindness. 
We ourselves perhaps were once as blind; happy if we 
are not still as proud. If not in this instance, in others 
perhaps they might have made more of our advantages than 
we have done; we, under their circumstances, might have 
been more perversely wrong than they are, had we not 
been treated by the enlightened with more patient tender- 
ness than we are disposed to exercise towards them. 
Tyre and Sidon we are assured by truth itself, would have 
repented, had they enjoyed the privileges which Chorazin 
and Bethsaida threw away. Surely we may do that for 
the love of God, and for the love of our opponent's soul, 
which well-bred men do through a regard to politeness. 
Why should a Christian be more ready to offend against 
the rule of charity, than a gentleman against the law of 
decorum? Candor in judging is like disinterestedness in 
acting; both are statutes of the royal law. 

There is also a kind of right which men feel they pos- 
sess to their own opinion. With this right it is often more 
difficult to part than even with the opinion itself If our 
object be the real good of our opponent; if it be to pro- 
mote the cause of truth, and not to contest for victory, we 
shall remember this. We shall consider what a value we 
put upon our own opinion: why should his, though a false 
one, be less dear to him, if he believes it true ? This consid- 
eration will teach us not to expect too much at first. It will 
teach us the prudence of seeking some general point, in 
which we cannot fail to agree. This will let him see that 
we do not differ from him for the sake of differing ; which 
conciliating spirit of ours may bring him to a temper to 
listen to arguments on topics where our disagreement is 
wider. 

In disputing, for instance, with those who wholly reject 
the divine authority of the scriptures, we can gain nothing by 
quoting them, and insisting vehemently on the proof which 
is to be drawn from them, in support of the point in debate; 
their unquestionable truth availing nothing with those who 
do not allow it. But if v/e take some common ground on 
which both the parties can stand, and reason from the anal- 
ogies of natural religion, and the way in which God pro- 
ceeds in the known and acknowledged course of his provi- 



144 CONDUCT OF CHRISTIANS 

dence, to the way in which he deals with us, and has 
declared he will deal with us, as the God revealed in the 
Bible: our opponent may be struck with the similarity and 
be put upon a track of consideration, and be brought to a 
temper m considering which may terminate in the happiest 
manner. He may be brought at length to be less averse 
from listening to us, on those grounds and principles of 
which probably he might otherwise never have seen the 
value. 

Where a disputant of another description cannot endure 
what he sneeringly calls the strictness of evangelical reli- 
gion, he will have no objection to acknowledge the mo- 
mentous truths of man's responsibility to his Maker, of the 
omniscience, omnipresence, majesty, and purity of God. 
Strive then to meet him on these grounds, and respectfully 
inquire if he can sincerely affirm that he is acting up to the 
truths he acknowledges? — If he is living in all respects as 
an accountable being ought to live ? — If he is really con- 
scious of acting as a being ought to act, who knows that 
he is continually acting under the eye of a just and holy 
God.'* You will find he cannot stand on these grounds. 
Either he must be contented to receive the truth as reveal- 
ed in the gospel, or be convicted of inconsistency, or self 
deceit, or hypocrisy. You will at least drive him off his 
own ground which he will find untenable, if you cannot 
bring him over to yours. But while the enemy is effecting 
his retreat, do not you cut off the means of his return. 

Some Christians approve Christianity as it is knowledge, 
rather than as it is principle. They like it as it yields a 
grand object of pursuit; as it enlarges their view of things, 
as it opens to them a wider field of inquiry, a fresh source 
of discovery, an additional topic of critical investigation. 
They consider it rather as extending the limits of their re- 
search, than as a means of ennobling their affections. It 
furnishes their understanding with a fund of riches on 
which they are eager to draw, not so much for the improve- 
ment of the heart as of the intellect. They consider it as 
a thesis on which to raise interesting discussion, rather than 
as premises from which to draw practical conclusions, as 
an incontrovertible truth, rather than as a rule of life. 

There is something in the exhibition of sacred subjects 
given us by these persons, which according to our concep- 
tion, is not only mistaken but pernicious. We refer to 
their treatment of religion as a mere science divested of its 
practical application, and taken rather as a code of philo- 



WITH THE IRRELIGIOUS. 145 

Bophical speculations than of active principles. To explain 
our meaning, we might perhaps venture to except against 
the choice of topics almost exclusively made by these 
writers. 

After they have spent half a life upon the evidences, the 
mere vestibule, so necessary, we allow, to be passed into 
the temple of Christianity, we accompany them into their 
edifice, and find it composed of materials but too coinci- 
dent with their former taste. Questions of criticism, of 
grammar, of history, of metaphysics, of mathematics, and 
of all the sciences, meet us, in the very place of that which 
St. Paul tells us " is the end of all" — that is, " Charity out 
of a pure heart, and of a good conscience, and of faith 
unfeigned, from which" he adds "some having swerved, 
have turned aside to vain jangling."* 

We are very far from applying the latter term to all sci- 
entific discussions in religion, of which we should be the 
very last to deny the use, or question the necessity. Our 
main objection lies to the preponderance given to such top- 
ics by our controversialists in their divinity, and to the 
spirit too often manifested in their discussions, A pre- 
ponderance it is, which makes us sometimes fear they 
consider these things rather as religion itself, than as 
helps to understand it, as the substitutes, not the allies of 
devotion. At the same time, a cold and philosophical spirit 
often studiously maintained, seems to confirm the suspicion, 
that religion with them is not accidentally, but essentially, 
and solely an exercise of the wits, and a field for the display 
of intellectual prowess — as if the salvation of souls were 
a thing by the bye. 

These prize fighters in theology remind us of the philos- 
ophers of other schools: we feel as if we were reading 
Newton against Des Cartes, or the theory of caloric in 
opposition to phlogiston. " Nous le regardons," says the 
eloquent Saurin upon some religious subject " pour la plu- 
part, de la meme maniere, dont on envisage les ides d'un 
ancien Philosophe sur le gouvernement." — The practical 
part of religion in short is forgotten, is lost in its theories: 
and what is worst of all, a temper hostile to the spirit of 
Christianity is employed to defend or illustrate its posi- 
tions. 

* See 1 Tim. 1, 5, 6, also verse 4, in which the apostle hints at certain 
" fables and endless genealogies, uliich minister questions rather than godly 
edifying which is by faith." We dare not say how closely this description 
applies to some modern controvertiste in theology. 

7 



146 CONDUCT OF CHRISTIANS 

This latter effect might be traced beyond the foregoing 
causes, to another nearly allied to them — the habit of 
treating religion as a science capable of demonstration 
On a subject evidently admitting but of moral evidence, 
we lament to see questions dogmatically proved, instead of 
being temperately argued. Nay we could almost smile at 
the sight of some intricate and barren novelty in religion 
demonstrated to the satisfaction of some one ingenious the- 
orist, who draws upon himself instantly a hundred confu- 
tations of every position he maintains. The ulterior stages 
of the debate are often such as might " make angels weep." 
And when v/e remember that even in the most important 
questions, involving eternal interests, "probability is the 
very guide of life"* we could most devoutly wish, that on 
subjects, to say the least, not " generally necessary to 
salvation" infallibility were not the claim of the disputant, 
or personal animosity the condition of his failure. 

Such speculatists who are more anxious to make prose- 
lytes to an opinion, than converts to a principle, will not be 
so likely to convince an opponent, as the Christian who is 
known to act up to his convictions, and whose genuine 
piety will put life and heart into his reasonings. The op- 
ponent probably knows already all the ingenious arguments 
which books supply. Ingenuity therefore, if he be a can- 
did man, will not be so likely to touch him, as that " godly 
sincerity" which he cannot but perceive the heart of his 
antagonist is dictating to his lips. There is a simple energy 
in pure Christian truth which a factitious principle imitates 
in vain. The " knowledge which puffeth up" will make 
few practical converts unaccompanied with the "charity 
which edifieth." 

To remove prejudices, then, is the bounden duty of a 
Christian, but he must take care not to remove them by 
conceding what integrity forbids him to concede. He 
must not wound his conscience to save his credit. If an 
ill-bred roughness disgusts another, a dishonest complai- 
sance undoes himself He must remove all obstructions 
to the reception of truth, but the truth itself he must not 
adulterate. In clearing away the impediment, he must 
secure the principle. 

If his own reputation be attacked, he must defend it by 
every lawful means; nor will he sacrifice the valuable pos- 
session to any demand but that of conscience, to any call 

* Butler's Introduction to " The Analogy." 



WITH THE IRRELIGIOUS. 147 

but the mperative call of duty. If his good name be put 
in competition with any other earthly good, he wi'll preserve 
it, however dear may be the good he relinquishes ; but, if the 
competition lie between his reputation and his conscience, 
he has no hesitation in making the sacrifice, costly as it 
is. A feeling man struggles for his fame as for his life, 
but if he be a Christian, he parts with it, for he knows that 
it is not the life of his soul. 

For the same reason that we must not be over anxious 
to vindicate our fame, we must be careful to preserve it 
from any unjust imputation. The great apostle of the 
Gentiles has set us an admirable example in both respects, 
and we should never consider him in one point of view, 
without recollecting his conduct in the other. So profound 
is his humility that he declares himself " less than the 
least of all saints." Not content with this comparative 
depreciation, he proclaims his actual corruptions. " In 
me, that is, in my flesh, there is no good thing." Yet this 
deep self-abasement did not prevent him from asserting his 
own calumniated worth, from declaring that he he was not 
behind the very " chiefest of the apostles" — again — " As 
the truth of Christ is in me, no man shall stop me of this 
boasting," &c. He then enumerates with a manly dignity, 
tempered with a noble modesty, a multitude of instances 
of his unparalleled sufferings and his unrivalled zeal. 

Where only his own personal feelings were in question, 
how self-abasing! how self-annihilating! but where the un- 
just imputation involved the honor of Christ and the credit 
of religion, "what carefulness it wrought in him; yea 
what clearing of himself; yea what indignation; yea what 
vehement desire; yea what zeal! " 

While we rejoice in the promises annexed to the beati- 
tudes, we should be cautious of applying to ourselves prom- 
ises which do not belong to us, particularly that which is 
attached to the last beatitude. When our fame is attacked, 
let us carefully inquire, if we are "suffering for righteous- 
ness' sake," or for our own faults; let us examine, whether 
we may not deserve the censures we have incurred? Even 
if we are suffering in the cause of God, may we not have 
brought discredit on that holy cause by our imprudence, 
our obstinacy, our vanity; by our zeal without knowledge, 
and our earnestness without temper? Let us inquire, 
whether our revilers have not some foundation for the 
charge? Whether wo have not sought our own glory more 
than that of God? Whether we are not more disappointed 



148 ON THE PROPRIETY OF INTRODUCING 

at missing that revenue of praise, which we thought our 
good works were entitled to bring us in, than at the wound 
rehgion may have sustained? Whether, though our views 
were right on the whole, their purity was not much alloyed 
by human mixtures? Whether, neglecting to count the 
cost, we did not expect unmixed approbation, uninterrupt- 
ed success, and a full tide of prosperity and applause, to- 
tally forgetting the reproaches received, and the obloquy 
sustained by " the Man of sorrows," 

If we can, on an impartial review, acquit ourselves as 
to the general purity of our motives, the general integrity 
of our conduct, the unfeigned sincerity of our endeavors, 
then we may indeed, though with deep humility, take to 
ourselves the comfort of this divine beatitude. When we 
really find, that men only speak evil of us for his sake in 
whose cause we have labored, however that labor may 
have been mingled with imperfection, we may indeed " re- 
joice and be exceeding glad." Submission may be eleva- 
ted into gratitude, and forgiveness into love. 



CHAP. XV. 

On the propriety of introducing Religion in general 
conversation. 

May we be allowed to introduce here an opinion warmly 
maintained in the world, and which indeed strikes at the 
root of all rules for the management of religious debate 
recommended in the preceding chapter? It is, that the 
subject of religion ought on no occasion to be introduced 
in mixed company; that the diversity of sentiment upon it 
is so great, and so nearly connected with the tenderest 
feelings of our minds, as to be liable to lead to heat and 
contention: Finally, that it is too grave and solemn atopic 
to be mixed in the miscellaneous circle of social discourse, 
much less in the festive effusions of convivial cheerfulness. 
Now, in answer to these allegations, we must at least in- 
sist, that should religion, on other grounds, be found en- 
titled to social discussion, the last observation, if true, 
would prove convivial cheerfulness incompatible with the 
spirit and practice of religion, rather than religion inad- 



RELIGION IN GENERAL CONVERSATION. 149 

missible into cheerful parties. And it is certainly a retort 
difficult of evasion, that where to introduce religion herself 
is to endanger her honor, there she rather suffers in repu- 
tation by the presence of her friend. The man endeared 
by conviction to his religion, will never bear to be long, 
much less to be statedly separated from the object of his 
affections: and he whose zeal once determined him "to 
know nothing " amongst his associates, " but Jesus Christ, 
and him crucified," never could have dreamed of a latitude 
of interpretation which would admit a Christian into scenes 
where every thing but Jesus Christ, and him crucified, 
might be recognized with credit. 

These principles appear so plain and incontrovertible, 
that the question seems rather to call for a different state- 
ment: viz. why religion should not be deemed admissible 
into every social meeting and friendly circle in which a 
Christian himself would choose to be found.? That it is 
too weighty and important a subject for discussion, is an 
argument, which, standing alone, assumes the gross ab- 
surdity, that either men never talk of that which most 
nearly interests them, or that when they do, they talk im- 
properly. They will not, it is true, introduce a private 
concern, however important, in which no one is interested 
but themselves. But in the subject of religion, who is not 
interested ? Or where will topics be found more universal 
in their application to all times, persons, places, and cir- 
cumstances, as well as more important, than those which 
relate to the eternal welfare of mankind ? 

Nor will it be avowed with greater color of reason, that 
topics so important suffer in point of gravity, or in the 
respect of mankind, by frequent discussion. We never 
observed men grow indifferent to their health, their affairs, 
their friends, their country, in proportion as these were 
made the subjects of their familiar discourse. On the con 
trary, oblivion has been noticed as the offspring of silence. 
The man who never mentions his friend, is, we think, in 
general, most likely to forget him. And far from deeming 
the name of one, greater than any earthly friend, "taken 
in vain," when mentioned discreetly in conversation, we 
generally find him most remembered and respected in 
secret, by those whose memories are occasionally refresh- 
ed by a reference to his word and authority in public. 
"Familiarity," indeed, we have been told, "produces 
contempt"; a truism, on which we are convinced many 
persons, honestly, though bhndly, rest their habitual, and 



150 ON THE PROPRIETY OF INTRODUCING 

even systematic reserve on religious subjects. But "fa- 
miliarity " in our mind has reference rather to the manner, 
than to the act, of introducing religion. To us it is synon- 
ymous with a certain trite and trivial repetition of serious 
remarks, evidently "to no profit," which we sometimes 
hear from persons familiarized, rather by education than 
feeling, to the language of piety. 

More particularly we refer it to a still more criminal 
habit, which, to their disgrace, some professors of religion 
share with the profane, of raising a laugh by the introduc- 
tion of a religious observation, or even a scriptural quota- 
tion. "To court a grin when we should woo a soul," is 
surely an abuse of religion, as well in the parlor as the 
pulpit. Nor has the senate itself been always exempt from 
this impropriety. Dr. Johnson has long since pronounced 
a jest drawn from the Bible, the vulgarest because the 
easiest of all jests. And far from perverting religious top- 
ics to such a purpose himself, a feeling Christian would 
not often be found, where such would be the probable con- 
sequence of offering a pious sentiment in company. 

That allusions involving religious questions are often 
productive of dispute and altercation, is a fact, which, 
though greatly exaggerated, must yet, in a degree, be ad- 
mitted. This circumstance may in some measure account 
for the singular reception which a religious remark is often 
observed to meet with in the world. It is curious to notice 
the surprise and alarm which, on such occasions, will fre- 
quently pervade the party present. The remark is received 
as a stranger-guest, of which no one knows the quality or 
intentions: And, like a species of intellectual foundling, it 
is cast upon the company without a friend to foster its in- 
fancy, or to own any acquaintance with the parent. A fear 
of consequences prevails. It is obvious that the feeling 
is — "We know not into what it may grow; it is therefore 
safer to stifle it in the birth." This, if not the avowed, is 
the implied sentiment. 

But is not this delicacy, this mauvaise honte, so peculiar 
perhaps to our countrymen, on religious subjects, the very 
cause which operates so unfavorably upon that effect which 
it labors to obviate ? Is not the very infrequency of moral 
or religious observations, a sufficient account to be given 
both of the perplexity and the irritation said to be conse- 
quent upon their introduction? And were not religion 
(we mean such religious topics as may legitimately arise 
in mixed society) banished so much as it is from conver- 



RELIGION IN GENERAL CONVERSATION. 151 

sation, might not its occasional recurrence become by 
degrees as natural, perhaps as interesting, certainly as in- 
structive, and after all as safe, as " a close committee on 
the weather," or any other of the authorised topics which 
are about as productive of amusement as of instruction ? 
People act as if religion were to be regarded at a distance, 
as if even a respectful ignorance were to be preferred to a 
more familiar approach. This reserve, however, does not 
give an air of respect, so much as of mystery, to religion. 
An able writer* has observed, '■^ that was esteemed the 
most sacred part of pagan devotion which was the most 
impure, and the only thing that was commendable in it is, 
that it was kept a great mystery." He approves of nothing 
in this religion but the modesty of withdrawing itself from 
the eyes of the world. But Christianity requires not to be 
shiouded in any such mysterious recesses. She does not, 
like the Eastern monarchs, owe her dignity to her conceal- 
ment. She is, on the contrary, most honored where most 
known, and most revered where most clearly visible. 

It will be obvious, that hints rather than arguments, be- 
long to our present undertaking. In this view, we may 
perhaps be excused if we offer a few general observations 
upon the different occasions on which a well-regulated 
mind would be solicitous to introduce religion into social 
discourse. The person possessed of such a mind, would 
be mainly anxious, in a society of Christians, that something 
should appear indicative of their profession. He would 
accordingly feel a strong desire to effect it when he plainly 
perceived his company engaged on no other topic, either 
innocently entertaining, or rationally instructive. This 
desire, however, would by no means cloud his brow, give 
an air of impatience to his countenance, or render him 
inattentive to the general tone and temper of the circle. 
On the contrary, he would endeavor to feel additional in- 
terest in his neighbor's suggestions, in proportion as he 
hoped in turn to attract notice to his own. He would show 
long forbearance to the utmost extent of conscientious tol- 
eration. In the prosecution of his favorite design, he 
would never attempt a forced or unseasonable allusion to 
serious subjects; a caution requiring the nicest judgment 
and discrimination, most particularly where he felt the sen- 
timents or the zeal of his company to be not congenial with 
his own. His would be the spirit of the prudent mariner, 

* I^>ipl!op Sherlock. 



152 ON THE PROPRIETY OF INTRODUCING 

who does not approach even his native shore, without care- 
fully watching the winds, and sounding the channels; 
knowing well that a temporary delay, even on an unfriend- 
ly element, is preferable to a hasty landing his company, 
on shore indeed, but upon the point of a rock. 

Happily for our present purpose, the days we live in 
afford circumstances both of foreign and domestic occur- 
rence, of every possible variety of color and connection, 
so as to leave scarcely any mind unfurnished with a store 
of progressive remarks, by which the most instructive 
truths may be approached through the most obvious topics. 
And a prudent mind will study to make its approaches to 
such an ultimate object, progressive: it will know also 
where to stop, rather indeed out of regard to others than 
to itself And in the manly avowal of its sentiments, avoid- 
ing as well what is canting in utterance as technical in 
language, it will make them at once appear not the ebulli- 
tion of an ill-educated imagination, but the result of a long 
exercised understanding. 

Nothing will be more likely to attract attention, or secure 
respect to your remarks, than the good taste in which they 
are delivered. On common topics we reckon him the most 
elegant speaker, whose pronunciation and accent are so 
free from all peculiarities that it cannot be determined to 
what place he owes his birth. A polished critic of Rome 
accuses one of the finest of her historians of provinciality. 
This is a fault obvious to less enlightened critics, since the 
Attic herb-woman could detect the provincial dialect of a 
great philosopher. Why must religion have her Patavini- 
ty? Why must a Christian adopt the quaintness of a party, 
or a scholar the idiom of the illiterate .'' Why should a 
valuable truth be combined with a vulgar or fanatical ex- 
pression? If either would offend when separate, how 
inevitably must they disgust when the one is mistakenly 
intended to set off the other. Surely this is not enchasing 
our " apples of gold in pictures of silver." 

We must not close this part of our subject without allud- 
ing to another, and still more delicate introduction of re- 
ligion, in the way of reproof. Here is indeed a point in 
religious conduct to which we feel it a boldness to make 
any reference at all. Bold, indeed, is that casuist who 
would lay down general rules on a subject where the con- 
sciences of men seem to differ so widely from each other, 
and feeble too oflen will be his justest rules where the feel- 
ings of timidity or delicacy rush in with a force which 



RELIGION IN GENERAL CONVERSATION. 153 

sweeps down many a land-mark erected for its own gui- 
dance, even by conscience itself. 

Certainly, much allowance, perhaps respect, is due in 
cases of very doubtful decision, to those feelings which, 
after the utmost self-regulation of mind, are found to be 
irresistible. And certainly the habits and modes of address 
attached to refined society, are such as to place personal 
observations on a very different footing to that on which 
they stand by nature. — ^A frown, even a cold and disap- 
proving look, may be a reception which the profane expres- 
sion or loose action of a neighbor of rank and opulence 
may have never before encountered from his flatterers or 
convivial companions. A vehement censure in his case 
might inflame his resentment without amending his fault. 
Whether the attempt be to correct a vice or rectify an 
error, one object should ever be steadily kept in view, to 
conciliate rather than to contend, to inform but not to insult, 
to evince that we assume not the character of a dictator, 
but the office of a Christian friend; that we have the best 
interests of the offender, and the honor of religion at heart, 
and that to reprove is so far from a gratification that it is 
atrial to ourselves; the effort of conscience, not the effect 
of choice. 

The feelings, therefore, of the person to be admonished 
should be most scrupulously consulted. The admonition, 
if necessarily strong, explicit, and personal, should yet be 
friendly, temperate, and well bred. An offence, even 
though publicly committed, is generally best reproved in 
private, perhaps in writing. — Age, superiority of station, 
previous acquaintance, above all, that sacred profession to 
which the honor of religion is happily made a personal con- 
cern, are circumstances which especially call for, and 
sanction the attempt recommended. And he must surely 
be unworthy his Christian vocation, who would not consci- 
entiously use any influence or authority which he might 
chance to possess, in discountenancing or rectifying the 
delinquency he condemns. 

We are, indeed, as elsewhere, after the closest reflection 
and longest discussion, often forced into the general con- 
clusion that "a good heart is the best casuist." And 
doubtless, where true Christian benevolence towards man 
meets in the same mind with an honest zeal for the glory 
of God, a Avay will be found, let us rather say will be 
opened, for the right exercise of this, as of every virtuous 
disposition. 



54 CHRISTIAN WATCHFULNESS 

Let US ever remember what we have so often insisted on, 
that self-denial is the groundwork, the indispensable requis- 
ite for every Christian virtue; that without the habitual 
exercise of this principle we shall never be followers of him 
"who pleased not himself" And when we are called by 
conscience to the largest use of it in practice, we must arm 
ourselves with the highest considerations for the trial: we 
must consider him, who (through his faithful reproofs) 
"endured the contradiction of sinners against himself." 
And when even from Moses we hear the truly evangelical 
precept, "thou shalt in any wise rebuke thy brother, and 
not suffer sin upon him;" we must duly weigh how strongly 
its performance is enforced upon ourselves, by the conduct 
of one greater than Moses, who expressly " suffered for 
us, leaving us an example that we should follow his foot- 
steps." 



CHAP. XVI. 

Christian Watchfulness. 

Of all the motives to vigilance and self-discipline which 
Christianity presents, there is not one more powerful than 
the danger, from which even religious persons are not ex- 
empt, of slackening in zeal and declining in piety. Would 
we could affirm, that coldness in religion is confined to the 
irreligious! If it be melancholy to observe an absence of 
Christianity where no great profession of it was ever made, 
it is far more grievous to mark its declension where it once 
appeared not only to exist, but to flourish. We feel on 
the comparison, the same distinct sort of compassion with 
which we contemplate the pecuniary distresses of those 
who have been always indigent, and of those who have 
fallen into want from a state of opulence. Our concern 
differs not only in degree but in kind. 

This declension is one of the most awakening calls to 
watchfulness, to humility and self-inspection, which religion 
can make to him "who thinketh he standeth" — which it 
can make to him who, sensible of his own weakness, ought 
to feel the necessity "of strengthening the things which 
remain that are ready to die." 



CHRISTIAN WATCHFULNESS. 155 

If there is not any one circumstance which ought more 
to alarm and quicken the Christian, than that of finding 
himself grow languid and indifferent, after having made not 
only a profession, but a progress, so there is not a more 
reasonable motive of triumph to the profane, not one cause 
which excites in him a more plausible ground of suspicion, 
either that there never was any truth in the profession of 
the person in question, or which is a more fatal, and, to 
such a mind, a more natural conclusion^ that there is no 
truth in religion itself At best, he will be persuaded that 
this can only be a faint and feeble principle, the impulse 
of which is so soon exhausted, and which is by no means 
found sufficiently powerful to carry on its votary through- 
out his course. He is assured that piety is only an outer 
garment, put on for show, or convenience, and that when 
it ceases to be wanted for either, it is laid aside. In these 
unhappy instances the evil seldom ceases with him who 
causes it. The inference becomes general, that all reli- 
gious men are equally unsound, or equally deluded, only 
that some are more prudent, or more fortunate, or greater 
hypocrites, than others. After the falling away of one 
promising character, the old suspicion recurs, and is con- 
firmed, and the defection of others pronounced to be in- 
fallible. 

There seems to be this marked distinction in the differ- 
ent opinions which religious and worldly men entertain 
respecting human corruption. The candid Christian is 
contented to believe it, as an indisputable general truth, 
while he is backward to suspect the wickedness of the in- 
dividual, nor does he allow himself to give full credit to 
particular instances without proof. The man of the world, 
on the contrary, who denies the general principle, is ex- 
tremely prone to suspect the individual. Thus his know- 
ledge of mankind not only furnishes a proof, but outstrips 
the truth, of the doctrine ; though he denies it as a propo- 
sition of scripture, he is eager to establish it as a fact of 
experiment. 

But the probability is, that the man, who by his departure 
from the principles with which he appeared to set out, so 
much gratifies the thoughtless, and grieves the serious 
mind, never was a sound and genuine Christian. His 
religion was perhaps taken up on some accidental circum- 
stance, built on some false ground, produced by some 
evanescent cause; and though it cannot be fairly pro- 
nounced that he intended by his forward profession, and 



I6G CHRISTIAN WATCHFULNESS. 

prominent zeal, to deceive others, it is probable that he 
himself was deceived. Perhaps he had made too sure of 
himself. His early profession was probably rather bold 
and ostentatious; he had imprudently fixed his stand on 
ground so high as to be not easily tenable, and from which 
a descent would be but too observable. While he thought 
he never could be too secure of his own strength, he allow- 
ed himself to be too censorious on the infirmities of others, 
especially of those whom he had apparently outstripped, 
and who, though they had started together, he had left be- 
hind him in the race. 

Might it not be a safer course, if in the outset of the 
Christian life, a modest and self-distrusting humility were 
to impose a temporary restraint on the forwardness of out- 
ward profession. A little knowledge of the human heart, 
a little suspicion of the deceitfulness of his own, would not 
only moderate the intemnerance of an ill-understood zeal, 
should the warm conveiz become an established Christian, 
but would save the credit of religion, which will receive a 
fresh wound, in the possible event of his desertion from her 
standard. 

Some of the most distinguished Christians in this country 
began their religious career with this graceful humility. 
They would not suffer their change of character and their 
adoption of new principles, and a new course, to be blazon- 
ed abroad, as the affectionate zeal of their confidential 
friends would have advised, till the principles they had 
adopted were established, and v/orked into habits of piety; 
till time and experience had evinced that the grace of God 
had not been bestowed on them in vain. Their progress 
proved to be such as might have been inferred from the 
modesty of their outset. They have gone on with a per- 
severance which difficulties have only contributed to 
strengthen, and experience to confirm; and will, through 
divine aid, doubtless, go on, shining more and more unto 
the perfect day. 

But to return to the less steady convert. Perhaps reli- 
gion was only, as we have hinted elsewhere, one pursuit 
among many which he had taken up when other pursuits 
failed, and which he now lays down, because his faith not 
being rooted and grounded, fails also; — or the temptations 
arising from without might concur with the failure within. 
If vanity be his infirmity, he will shrink from the pointed 
disapprobation of his superiors. If the love of novelty be 
his besetting weakness, the very peculiarity and strictness 



CHRISTIAN WATCHFULNESS, 157 

of religion, the very marked departure from the " gay and 
primrose path " in which he had before been accustomed 
to walk, which first attracted, now repel him. The atten- 
tion which his early deviation from the manners of the 
"vorld drew upon him, and which once flattered, now dis- 
gusts him. The very opposition which once animated, 
now cools him. He is discouraged at the near view, sub- 
dued by the required practice, of that Christian self-denial 
which, as a speculation, had appeared so delightful. Per- 
haps his fancy had been fired by some acts of Christian 
heroism, which he felt an ambition to imitate: a feeling 
which tales of martial prowess, or deeds of chivalry, some- 
thing that, promising celebrity and exciting emulation, had 
often kindled before. I'he truth is, religion had only taken 
hold of his imagination, his heart had been left out of the 
question. 

Or he had, in the twilight of his first awakening, seen 
religion only as something to be believed — he now finds 
that much is to be done in the new life, and much which 
was habitual to the old one, left undone. Above all he 
did not reckon on the consistency which the Christian life 
demands. Warm affections rendered the practice of some 
right actions easy to him; but he did not include in his 
faulty and imperfect scheme, the self-denial, the perse- 
verance, the renouncing of his own will and his own way, 
the evil report, as well as the good report, to which every 
man pledges himself, when he enlists under the banner of 
Christ. The cross which it was easy to venerate, he finds 
it hard to bear. 

Or religion might be adopted when he was in affliction, 
and he is now happy; — when he was in bad circumstances, 
and he is now grown affluent. Or it might be assumed, as 
something wanting to his recommendation to that party or 
project by which he wished to make his way; as something 
that would better enable him to carry certain points which 
he had in view; something that, with the new acquaintance 
he wished to cultivate, might obliterate certain defects in 
his former conduct, and white-wash a somewhat sullied 
reputation. 

Or in his now more independent situation, it may be he 
is surrounded by temptations, softened by blandishments, 
allured by pleasures, which he never expected would arise 
to weaken his resolutions. These new enchantments make 
it not so easy to be pious, as when he had little to lose and 
every thing to desire, as when the world wore a frowning, 



158 CHRISTIAN WATCHFULNESS. 

iind religion an inviting aspect. Or he is, perhaps, by the 
vicissitudes of life, transferred from a sober and humble 
society, where to be religious was honorable, to a more 
fashionable set of associates, where, as the disclosure of 
his piety would add nothing to his credit, he set out with 
taking pains to conceal it, till it has fallen into that gradual 
oblivion, which is the natural consequence of its being kept 
out of sight. 

But we proceed to a far more interesting and important 
character. The one indeed whom we have been slightly 
sketching, may by his inconstancy do much harm, the one 
on which we are about to animadvert, might by his con- 
sistency and perseverance effect essential good. Even the 
sincere, and, to all appearance, the established Christian, 
especially if his situation in life be easy, and his course 
smooth and prosperous, had need keep a vigilant eye upon 
his own heart. For such a one it will not be sufficient that 
he keep his ground, if he do not advance in it. Indeed, it 
will be a sure proof that he has gone back, if he has not 
advanced. 

In a world so beset with snares, various are the causes 
which may possibly occasion, in even good men, a slow, 
but certain decline in piety A decline scarcely percepti- 
ble at first, but which becomes more visible in its subse- 
quent stages. When, therefore, we suspect our hearts of 
any declension in piety, we should not compare ourselves 
with what we were in the preceding week or month, but 
with what we were at the supposed height of our character. 
Though the alteration was not perceptible in its gradual 
progress, one shade melting into the next, and each losing 
its distinctness, yet, when the two remote states are brought 
into contrast, the change will be strikingly obvious. 

Among other causes, may be assigned the indiscreet 
forming of some worldly connection: especially that of 
marriage. In this connection, for union it cannot be called, 
it is to be lamented that the irreligious more frequently 
draw away the religious to their side, than that the contra- 
ry takes place; a circumstance easily accounted for by 
those who are at all acquainted with the human heart. 

Or the sincere but incautious Christian may !)e led, by 
a strong affection which assumes the shape of virtue, into 
a fond desire of establishing his children advantageously 
in the world, into methods, which if not absolutely incor- 
rect, are yet ambiguous at the best. In order to raise 
those whom he loves to a station above their level, he may 



CHRISTIAN WATCHFULNESS. 159 

be tempted, while self-deceit will teach him to sanctify the 
deed by the motive, to make some little sacrifices of prin- 
ciple, some little abatements of that strict rectitude, for 
which, in the abstract, no man would more strenuously 
contend. And as it may be in general observed, that the 
most amiable minds are most susceptible of the strongest 
natural affections; of course, the very tenderness of the 
heart lays such characters peculiarly open to a danger to 
which the unfeeling and the obdurate are less exposed. 

If the person in question be of the sacred order, no small 
danger may arise from his living under the eye of an irre- 
ligious, but rich and bountiful patron. It is his duty to 
make religion appear amiable in his eyes. He ought to 
conciliate his good will by every means which rectitude 
can sanction. But though his very piety will stimulate his 
discretion in the adoption of those means, he will take care 
never to let his discretion intrench on his integrity. 

If he be under obligations to him, he may be in danger 
of testifying his gratitude, and furthering his hopes by some 
electioneering manoeuvres, and by too much electioneering 
society. He may, unawares, be tempted to too much con- 
formity to his friend's habits, to too much conviviality in 
his society. And when he witnesses so much kindness 
and urbanity in his manners, possibly so much usefulness 
and benevolence in his life, he may be even tempted to 
suspect that he himself may be wrong; to accuse himself 
of being somewhat churlish in his own temper, a little too 
austere in his habits, and rather hard in his judgment of a 
man so amiable. He will be still more likely to fall into 
this error if he expects a favor, than if he has obtained it; 
for though it is not greatly to the honor of human nature, 
we daily see how much keener are the feelings which are 
excited by hope than those which are raised by gratitude. 
The favor which has been already conferred excites a tem- 
perate, that which we are looking for, a fervid feeling. 

These relaxing feelings and these softened dispositions, 
aided by the seducing luxury of the table, and the bewitch- 
ing splendor of the apartment, by the soft accommodations 
which opulence exhibits, and the desires which they are 
too apt to awaken in the dependent, may, not impossibly, 
lead by degrees to a criminal timidity in maintaining the 
purity of his own principles, in supporting the strictness 
of his own practice. He may gradually lose somewhat of 
the dignity of his professional, and of the sobriety of his 
Christian character. He may be brought to forfeit the in- 



160 CHRISTIAN WATCHFULNESS. 

dependence of his mind ; and in order to magnify his for- 
tune, may neglect to magnify his office. 

Even here, from an increasing remissness in self-exam- 
ination, he may deceive himself by persisting to believe — 
for the films are now grown thicker over his spiritual sight 
— that his motives are defensible. Were not his discern- 
ment laboring under a temporary bhndness, he would rep- 
robate the character which interested views have insensibly 
drawn him in to act. He would be as much astonished 
to be told that this character was become his own, as was 
the royal offender, when the righteous boldness of the 
prophet pronounced the heart-appalling words, "Thou 
art the man." 

Still he continues to flatter himself that the reason of his 
diminished opposition to the faults of his friend, is not be- 
cause he has a more lucrative situation in view, but because 
he may by a slight temporary concession, and a short sus- 
pension of a severity which he begins to fancy he has car- 
ried too far, secure for his future life a more extensive field 
of usefulness, in the benefice which is hanging over his 
head. 

In the mean time, hope and expectation so fill his mind, 
that he insensibly grows cold in the prosecution of his pos- 
itive duties. He begins to lament that in his present situ- 
ation he can make but few converts, that he sees but small 
effects of his labors; not perceiving that God may have 
withdrawn his blessing from a ministry which is exercised 
on such questionable grounds. With his new expectations 
he continues to blend his old ideas. He feasts his imagin- 
ation with the prospect of a more fruitful harvest on an 
unknown, and perhaps an unbroken soil — as if human na- 
ture were not pretty much the same every where; as if the 
laborer were accountable for the abundance of his crop, 
and not solely for his own assiduity — as if actual duty 
faithfully performed, even in that circumscribed sphere in 
which God has cast our lot, is not more acceptable to him, 
than theories of the most extensive good, than distant 
speculations and improbable projects, for the benefit even 
of a whole district; while, in the indulgence of those airy 
schemes, our own specific and appointed work lies neg- 
lected, or is performed without energy and without atten- 
tion. 

Self-love so naturally infatuates the judgment, that it is 
no paradox to assert that we look too far, and yet do not 
look far enough. We look too far when passing over the 



CHRISTIAN WATCHFULNESS. 161 

actual duties of the immediate scene, we form long con- 
nected trains of future projects, and indulge our thoughts 
in such as are most remote, and perhaps least probable. 
And we do not look far enough when the prospective 
mind does not shoot beyond all these little earthly distan- 
ces, to that state, falsely called remote, whither all our steps 
are not the less tending, because our eyes are confined to 
the home scenes. But while the precariousness of our 
duration ought to set limits to our designs, it should furnish 
incitements to our application. Distant projects are too 
apt to slacken present industry, while the magnitude of 
schemes, probably impracticable, may render our actual 
exertions cold and sluggish. 

Let it be observed that we would be the last to censure 
any of those fair and honorable means of improving his 
condition, which every man, be he worldly or religious, 
owes to himself, and to his family. Saints as well as sin- 
ners have in common, what a great genius calls, " certain 
inconvenient appetites of eating and drinking," which 
while we are in the body must be complied with. It would 
be a great hardship on good men, to be denied any inno- 
cent means of fair gratification. It would be a peculiar 
injustice that the most diligent laborer should be esteemed 
the least worthy of his hire the least fit to rise in his pro- 
fession. 

The more serious clergyman has also the same warm 
affection for his children with his less scrupulous brother, 
and consequently the same laudable desire for their com- 
fortable establishment; only in his plans for their advance- 
ment he should neither entertain ambitious views, nor 
prosecute any views, even the best, by methods not conso- 
nant to the strictness of his avowed principles. Professing 
to " seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness," 
he ouo-ht to be more exempt from an over-anxious solici- 
tude than those who profess it less zealously. Avowing a 
more determined confidence that all other things will, as 
far as they are absolutely necessary, "be added unto him," 
he should, as it is obvious he commonly does, manifest 
practically, a more implicit trust, confiding in that gracious 
and cheering promise, that promise expressed both nega- 
tively and positively, as if to comfort by a double confirma- 
tion, that God who is "both his light and defence, who 
will give grace and worship, will also withhold no good 
thing from them that live a godly life." 

It is one of the trials of faith appended to the sacred oflice, 



162 CHRISTIAN WATCHFULNESS. 

that its ministers, like the father of the faithful, are liable 
to go out, "not knowing whither they go;" and this not 
only at their first entrance into their profession, but through- 
out life; an inconvenience to which no other profession is 
necessarily liable ; a trial which is not perhaps fairly esti- 
mated. 

This remark will naturally raise a laugh among those 
who at once hold the function in contempt, deride its min- 
isters, and think their well-earned remuneration lavishly 
and even unnecessarily bestowed. They will probably 
exclaim with as much complacency in their ridicule, as if 
it were really the test of truth — " A great cause of com- 
miseration truly, to be transferred from a starving curacy 
to a plentiful benefice, or from the vulgar society of a 
country parish, to be a stalled theologian in an opulent 
town!" 

We are far from estimating at a low rate the exchange 
from a state of uncertainty to a state of independence, from 
a life of penury to comfort, or from a barely decent to an 
affluent provision. — But does the ironical remarker rate 
the feelings and affections of the heart at nothing .'' If he 
insists that money is that chief good of which ancient phi- 
losophy says so much, we beg leave to insist that it is not 
the only good. We are above the affectation of pretend- 
ing to condole with any man on his exaltation, but there 
are feelings which a man of acute sensibility, rendered 
more acute by an elegant education, values more intimately 
than silver or gold. 

Is it absolutely nothing to resign his local comforts, to 
break up his local attachments, to have new connections 
to form, and that frequently at an advanced period of life? 
Connections, perhaps, less valuable than those he is quit- 
ting ? Is it nothing for a faithful minister to be separated 
from an affectionate people, a people not only whose friend- 
ship but whose progress has constituted his happiness here, 
as it will make his joy and crown of rejoicing hereafter.'* 

Men of delicate minds estimate things by their affections 
as well as by their circumstances; to a man of a certain 
cast of character, a change, however advantageous, may 
be rather an exile than a promotion. While he gratefully 
accepts the good, he receives it with an edifying acknow- 
ledgment of the imperfection of the best human things. 
These considerations we confess add the additional feelings 
of kindness to their persons, and of sympathy with their vi- 
cissitudes, to our respect and veneration for their holy office. 



CHRISTIAN WATCHFULNESS. 163 

To themselves, however, the precarious tenure of their 
situation presents an instructive emblem of the uncertain 
condition of human life, of the transitory nature of the 
world itself Their liableness to a sudden removal gives 
them the advantage of being more especially reminded of 
the necessity and duty of keeping in a continual posture of 
preparation, having "their loins girded, their shoes on 
their feet, and their staff' in their hand." They have also 
the same promises which supported the Israelites in the 
desert. — The same assurance which cheered Abraham, 
may still cheer the true servants of God under all difficul- 
ties. — "Fear not — I am thy shield and thy exceeding 
great reward." 

But there are perils on the right hand and on the left. 
It is not among the least, that though a pious clergyman 
may at first have tasted with trembling caution of the deli- 
cious cup of applause, he may gradually grow, as thirst is 
increased by indulgence, to drink too deeply of the en- 
chanted chalice. The dangers arising from any thing that 
is good, are formidable, because unsuspected. And such 
are the perils of popularity that we will venture to say that 
the victorious general, who has conquered a kingdom, or 
the sagacious statesman who has preserved it, is almost in 
less danger of being spoiled by acclamation than the popu- 
lar preacher; because their danger is likely to happen but 
once, his is perpetual. Theirs is only on a day of triumph, 
his day of triumph occurs every week; we mean the admi- 
ration he excites. Every fresh success ought to be a fresh 
motive to humiliation: he who feels his danger will vigi- 
lantly guard against swallowing too greedily the indis- 
criminate, and often undistinguishing plaudits which his 
doctrines or his manner, his talents or his voice, may 
equally procure for him. 

If he be not prudent as well as pious, he may be brought 
to humor his audience, and his audience to flatter him with 
a dangerous emulation, till they will scarcely endure truth 
itself from any other lips. Nay, he may imperceptibly be 
led not to be always satisfied with the attention and im- 
provement of his hearers, unless the attention be sweeten- 
ed by flattery, and the improvement followed by exclusive 
attachment. 

The spirit of exclusive fondness generates a spirit of 
controversy. Some of the followers will rather improve in 
casuistry than in Christianity. They will be more busied 
in opposing Paul to Apollos, than looking unto "Jesus, 



164 CHRISTIAN WATCHFULNESS. 

the author and finisher of their faith;" than in bringing 
forth fruits meet for repentance. Religious gossip may 
assume the place of religion itself A party spirit is thus 
generated, and Christianity may begin to be considered as 
a thing to be discussed and disputed, to be heard and talked 
about, rather than as the productive principle of virtuous 
conduct.* 

We owe, indeed, lively gratitude and affectionate attach- 
ment to the minister who has faithfully labored for our 
edification; but the author has sometimes noticed a man- 
ner adopted by some injudicious adherents, especially of her 
own sex, which seems rather to erect their favorite into 
the head of a sect, than to reverence him as the pastor of 
a flock. This mode of evincing an attachment, amiable in 
itself, is doubtless as distressing to the delicacy of the min- 
ister as it is unfavorable to religion, to which it is apt to 
give an air of party. 

May we be allowed to animadvert more immediately on 
the cause of declension in piety in some persons who for- 
merly exhibited evident marks of that seriousness in their 
lives which they continue to inculcate from the pulpit. If 
such has been sometimes (we hope it has been very rarely) 
the case, may it not be partly ascribed to an unhappy 
notion that the same exactness in his private devotion, the 
same watchfulness in his daily conduct, is not equally 
necessary in the advanced progress as in the first stages 
of a religious course? He does not desist from warning 
his hearers of the continual necessity of these things, but 
is he not in some danger of not applying the necessity to 
himself ? May he not begin to rest satisfied with the in- 
culcation without the practice ? It is not probable indeed 
that he goes so far as to establish himself as an exempt 
case, but he slides from indolence into the exemption, as 
if its avoidance were not so necessary for him as for 
others. 

Even the very sacredness of his profession is not without 
a snare. He may repeat the holy offices so often that he 
may be in danger on the one hand, of sinking into the 
notion that it is a mere profession, or, on the other, of so 
resting in it as to make it supersede the necessity of that 
strict personal religion with which he set out: he may at 
least be satisfied with the occasional, without the uniform 
practice. There is a danger — we advert only to its possi- 

* This polemic tattle is of a totally diflferent character from that species of 
religious conversation recommended in tlie preceding chapter. 



CHRISTIAN WATCHFULNESS. 165 

bility — that his very exactness in the public exercise of his 
function may lead to a little justification of his remissness 
in secret duties. His zealous exposition of the Scriptures 
to others may satisfy him, though it does not always lead 
to a practical application of them to himself. 

But God, by requiring exemplary diligence in the de- 
votion of his appointed servants, would keep up in their 
minds a daily sense of their dependence on him. If he 
does not continually teach by his spirit those who teach 
others, they have little reason to expect success, and that 
spirit will not be given where it is not sought, or, which is 
an awful consideration, may be withdrawn, where it had 
been given and not improved as it might have been. 

Should this unhappily ever be the case, it would almost 
reduce the minister of Christ to a mere engine, a vehicle 
through which knowledge was barely to pass, like the an- 
cient oracles who had nothing to do with the information 
but to convey it. Perhaps the public success of the best 
men has been, under God, principally owing to this, that 
their faithful ministration in the temple has been uniform- 
ly preceded and followed by petitions in the closet; that 
the truths implanted in the one have chiefly flourished from 
having been watered by the tears and nourished by the 
prayers of the other. 

We will hazard but one more observation on this dan- 
gerous and delicate subject; in this superficial treatment 
of which it is the thing in the world the most remote from 
the writer's wish to give the slightest ofience to any pious 
member of an order which possesses her highest venera- 
tion. — If the indefatigable laborer in his great master's 
vineyard, has, as must often be the case, the mortification 
of finding that his labors have failed of producing their 
desired effect, in some instance, where his warmest hopes 
had been excited; — if he feels that he has not benefited 
others as he had earnestly desired, this is precisely the 
moment to benefit himself, and is perhaps permitted for 
that very end. Where his usefulness has been obviously 
great, the true Christian will be humbled by the recollec- 
tion that he is only an instrument. Where it has been 
less, the defeat of his hopes oflfers the best occasion, which 
he will not fail to use, for improving his humility. Thus 
he may always be assured that good has been done some- 
\yhere, so that in any case his labor will not have been vain 
in the Lord. 



166 TRUE AND FALSE ZEAL. 

CHAP. XVII. 

True and false Zeal. 

It is one of the most important ends of cultivating that 
self-knowledge which we have elsewhere recommended, 
to discover what is the real bent of our mind, and which 
are the strongest tendencies of our character; to discover 
where our disposition requires restraint, and where we may 
be safely trusted with some liberty of indulgence. If the 
temper be fervid, and that fervor be happily directed to re- 
ligion, the most consummate prudence will be requisite to 
restrain its excesses without freezing its energies. 

If, on the contrary, timidity and diffidence be the natu- 
ral propensity, we shall be in danger of falling into cold- 
ness and inactivity with regard to ourselves, and into too 
unresisting a compliance with the requisitions, or too easy 
a conformity with the habits of others. It will therefore 
be an evident proof of Christian self-government, when 
the man of too ardent zeal restrains its outward expression 
where it would be unseasonable or unsafe; while it will 
evince the same Christian self-denial in the fearful and 
diffident character, to burst the fetters of timidity, where 
duty requires a holy boldness; and when he is called upon 
to lose all lesser fears in the fear of God. 

It will then be one of the first objects of a Christian to 
get his understanding and his conscience thoroughly en- 
lightened; to take an exact survey not only of the whole 
comprehensive scheme of Christianity, but of his own char- 
acter; to discover, in order to correct, the defects in his 
judgment, and to ascertain the deficiencies even of his best 
qualities. Through ignorance in these respects, though he 
may really be following up some good tendency, though he 
is even persuaded that he is not wrong either in his motive 
or his object, he may yet be wrong in the measure, wrong 
in the mode, wrong in the application, though right in the 
principle. He must therefore watch with a suspicious eye 
over his better qualities, and guard his very virtues from 
deviation and excess. 

His zeal, that indispensable ingredient in the composi- 
tion of a great character, that quality, without which no 
great eminence either secular or reHgious has ever been 
attained; which is essential to the acquisition of excellence 



TRUE AND FALSE ZEAL. 167 

in arts and arms, in learning and piety; that principle with- 
out which no man will be able to reach the perfection of 
his nature, or to animate others to aim at that perfection, 
will yet hardly fail to mislead the animated Christian, if his 
knowledge of what is right and just, if his judgment in the 
appHcation of that knowledge do not keep pace with the 
principle itself. 

Zeal, indeed, is not so much an individual virtue, as 
the principle which gives life and coloring, as the spirit 
which gives grace and benignity, as the temper which gives 
warmth and energy to every other. It is that feeling which 
exalts the relish of every duty, and sheds a lustre on the 
practice of every virtue; which, embellishing every image 
of the mind with its glowing tints, animates every quality 
of the heart with its invigorating motion. It may be said 
of zeal among the virtues, as of memory among the faculties, 
that though it singly never made a great man, yet no man 
has ever made himself conspicuously great where it has 
been wanting. 

Many things however must concur before we can be 
allowed to determine whether zeal be really a virtue or a 
vice. Those who are contending for the one or the other, 
will be in the situation of the two knights, who meeting on 
a cross road, were on the point of fighting about the color 
of a cross which was suspended between them. One insis- 
ted it was gold; the other maintained it was silver. The 
duel was prevented by the interference of a passenger, who 
desired them to change their positions. Both crossed over 
to the opposite side, found the cross was gold on one side, 
and silver on the other. Each acknowledged his opponent 
to be right. 

It may be disputed whether fire be a good or an evil. 
The man who feels himself cheered by its kindly warmth, 
is assured that it is a benefit, but he whose house it has 
just burnt down will give another verdict. Not only the 
cause, therefore, in which zeal is exerted must be good, 
but the principle itself must be under due regulation: or, 
like the rapidity of the traveller who gets into a wrong 
road, it will only carry him so much the further out of his 
way; or if he be in the right road, it will, through inatten- 
tion, carry him involuntarily beyond his destined point. 
That degree of motion is equally misleading, which detains 
us short of our end, or which pushes us beyond it. 

The apostle suggests a useful precaution by expressly 
asserting that it is " in a good cause," that we " must be 



168 TRUE AND FALSE ZEAL. 

zealously affected," which implies this further truth, that 
where the cause is not good, the mischief is proportioned 
to the zeal. But lest we should carry our limitations of the 
quality to any restriction of the seasons for exercising it, 
he takes care to animate us to its perpetual exercise, by 
adding that we must be always so affected. 

If the injustice, the intolerance and persecution, with 
which a misguided zeal has so often afflicted the church 
of Christ, in its more early periods, be lamented as a de- 
plorable evil, yet the over-ruling wisdom of Providence 
educing good from evil, made the very calamities which 
false zeal occasioned, the instruments of producing that 
true and lively zeal to which we ov/e the glorious band of 
martyrs and confessors, those brightest ornaments of the 
best periods of the church. This effect, though a clear 
vindication of that divine goodness which suffers evil, is no 
apology for him who perpetrates it. 

It is curious to observe the contrary operations of true 
and false zeal, which though apparently only different 
modifications of the same quality, are, when brought into 
contact, repugnant, and even destructive to each other. 
There is no attribute of the human mind where the differ- 
ent effects of the same principle have such a total opposi- 
tion: for is it not obvious that the same principle under 
another direction, which actuates the tyrant in dragging 
the martyr to the stake, enables the martyr to embrace it.^ 

As a striking proof that the necessity for caution is not 
imaginary, it has been observed that the Holy Scriptures 
record more instances of a bad zeal than of a good one. 
This furnishes the most authoritative argument for regula- 
ting this impetuous principle, and for governing it by all 
those restrictions which a feeling so calculated for good 
and so capable of evil demands. 

It was zeal, but of a blind and furious character, which 
produced the massacre on the day of St. Bartholomew — a 
day to which the mournful strains of Job have been so well 
applied. — "Let that day perish. Let it not be joined to 
the days of the year. Let darkness and the shadow of 
death stain it." — It was a zeal the most bloody, combined 
with a perfidy the most detestable, which inflamed the exe- 
crable Florentine,* when, having on this occasion invited 
so many illustrious Protestants to Paris under the alluring 
mask of a public festivity, she contrived to involve her 
guest, the pious queen of Navarre, and the venerable Co- 
* Catherine de Medici. 



TRUE AND FALSE ZEAL. 169 

ligni in the general mass of undistinguished destruction. 
The royal and pontifical assassins, not satisfied with the 
sin, converted it into a triumph. Medals were struck in 
honor of a deed which has no parallel even in the annals 
of Pagan persecution. 

Even glory did not content the pernicious plotters of 
this direful tragedy. Devotion was called in to be 

The crown and consummation of" their crime. 

The blackest hypocrisy was made use of to sanctify the 
foulest murder. The iniquity could not be complete without 
solemnly thanking God for its success. The pope and 
cardinals proceeded to St. Mark's Church, where they 
praised the Almighty for so great a blessing conferred on 
the See of Rome, and the Christian world. A solemn 
Jubilee completed the preposterous mummery. — This zeal 
of devotion was as much worse than even the zeal of mur- 
der, as thanking God for enabling us to commit a sin is 
worse than the commission itself. A wicked piety is still 
more disgusting than a wicked act. God is less offended 
by the sin itself than by the thank-offering of its perpetra- 
tors. It looks like a black attempt to involve the Creator 
in the crime.* 

It was this exterminating zeal which made the fourteenth 
Louis, bad in the profligacy of his youth, worse in the su- 
perstition of his age, revoke the tolerating edict which 
might have drawn down a blessing on his kingdom. — One 
species of crime was called on, in his days of blind devo- 
tion, to expiate another committed in his days of mad 
ambition. But the expiation was even more intolerable 
than the offence. The havoc made by the sword of civil 
persecution was a miserable atonement for the blood which 
unjust aggression had shed in foreign wars. 

It was this impious and cruel zeal, which inspired the 
monk Dominic in erecting the most infernal tribunal which 
ever inventive bigotry projected to dishonor the Christian 
name, and with which pertinacious barbarity has continued 
for above six centuries, to afflict the human race. 

For a complete contrast to this pernicious zeal we need 
not, blessed be God, travel back into remote history, nor 
abroad into distant realms. This happy land of civil and 
religious liberty can furnish a countless catalogue of in- 
stances of a pure, a wise, and a well directed zeal. Not 

* See ThuanuB, for a most affecting and exact account of this direftil mas* 
mere. 



170 TRUE AND FALSE ZEAL. 

to swell the list, we will only mention that it has in our 
own age, produced the Society for promoting Christian 
Knowledge, the British and Foreign Bible Society, and the 
A-bolition of the African Slave Trade. — Three as noble, and 
which will, we trust, be as lasting monuments as ever na- 
tional virtue erected to true piety. These are institutions 
v.'hich bear the genuine stamp of Christianity, not origina- 
ting in party, founded in disinterestedness, and compre- 
hending the best interests of almost the whole habitable 
globe — " without partiality and w^ithout hypocrisy." 

Why we hear so much in praise of zeal from a certain 
class of religious characters, is partly owing to their hav- 
ing taken up a notion that its required exertions relate to 
the care of other people's salvation rather than to their 
own;' and indeed the casual prying into a neighbor's house, 
though much more entertaining, is not near so troublesome 
as the constant inspection of one's own. It is observable 
that the outcry against zeal among the irreligious is raised 
on nearly the same ground, as the clamor in its favor by 
these professors of religion. The former suspect that the 
zeal of the religionist evaporates in censuring their im- 
piety, and in eagerness for their conversion, instead of being 
directed to themselves. This supposed anxiety they resent, 
and give a practical proof of their resentment by resolving 
not to profit by it. 

Two very erroneous opinions exist, respecting zeal. It 
is commonly supposed to indicate a want of charity, and 
the two principles are accused of maintaining separate in- 
terests. This is so far from being the case, that charity is 
the firm associate of that zeal of which it is suspected to 
be the enemy. Indeed, this is so infallible a criterion by 
which to try its sincerity, that we should be apt to suspect 
the legitimacy of the zeal which is unaccompanied by this 
fair ally. 

Another opinion equally erroneous is not a little preva- 
lent — that where there is much zeal there is little or no 
prudence. Now a sound and sober zeal is not such an 
idiot as to neglect to provide for its own success; and 
would that success be provided for, without employing for 
its accomplishment, every precaution which prudence can 
suggest? True zeal therefore will be as discreet as it is 
fervent, well knowing that its warmest efrbrts will be nei- 
^her effectual, nor lasting, without those provisions which 
discretion alone can make. No quality is ever possessed 
in perfection where its opposite is wanting; zeal is not 



TRUE AND FALSE ZEAL. 171 

Christian fervor, but animal heat, if not associated with 
charity and prudence. 

Zeal indeed, like other good things, is frequently calum- 
niated because it is not understood; and it may sometimes 
deserve censure, as being the effervescence of that weal< 
but well meaning mind which will defeat the efforts not 
only of this, but of every other good propensity. 

That most valuable faculty therefore of intellectual man, 
the judgment, the enlightened, impartial, unbiassed judg- 
ment, must be kept in perpetual activity, not only in order 
to ascertain that the cause be good, but to determine also 
the degree of its importance in any given case, that we 
may not blindly assign an undue value to an inferior good: 
for want of this discrimination we may be fighting a wind- 
mill, when we fancy we are attacking a fort. We must 
prove not only whether the thing contended for be right, 
but whether it be essential; whether in our eagerness to 
attain this subordinate good we may not Ue sacrificing, or 
neglecting, things of more real consequence. Whether 
the value we assign to it may not be even imaginary. 

Above all, we should examine whether w'e do not con- 
tend for it chiefly because it happens to fall in with our 
own humor, or our own party, more than on account of its 
intrinsic worth; whether we do not wish to distinguish our- 
selves by our pertinacity, and to append ourselves to the 
party rather than to the principle ; and thus, as popularity 
is often gained by the worst part of a man's character, 
whether we do not principally persist from the hope of be- 
coming popular. The favorite adage that h jeu ne vaut pas 
la chandelle might serve as an appropriate motto to one half 
of the contentions which divide and distract the world. 

This zeal, hotly exercised for mere circumstantials, for 
ceremonies different in themselves, for distinctions rather 
than difl'erences, has unhappily assisted in causing irrepara- 
ble separations and dissensions in the Christian world, even 
where the champions on both sides were great and good 
men. Many of the points which have been the sources of 
altercation were not worth insisting upon, where the op})0- 
ncnts agreed in the grand fundamentals of faith and practice. 

But to consider zeal as a general question, as a thing of 
every day experience. — He whose piety is most sincere 
will be likely to be the most zealous. But tliough zeal is 
an indication, and even, a concomitant of sincerity, a burn- 
ing zeal is sometimes soon where the sincerity is somewhat 
questionablr. 



172 TRUE AND FALSE ZEAL. 

For where zeal is generated by ignorance it is commonly 
fostered by self-will. That which we have embraced 
through false judgment we maintain through false honor. 
Pride is generally called in to nurse the offspring of error. 
It is from this confederacy that we frequently see those 
who are perversely zealous for points which can add noth- 
ing to the cause of Christian truth, whether they are re- 
jected or retained, cold and indifferent about the great 
things which involve the salvation of man. 

Though all momentous truths, all indispensable duties, 
are, in the luminous volume of inspiration, made so obvi- 
ous that those may read who run, the contested matters are 
not only so comparatively little as to be by no means wor- 
thy of the heat they excite, but are rendered so doubtful, 
not in themselves, but by the opposite systems built on 
them, that he who fights for them is not always sure 
whether he be right or not; and if he carry his point he 
can make no moral use of his victory. This indeed is not 
his concern, fi is enough that he has conquered. The 
importance of the object having never depended on its 
worth, but on the opinion of his right to maintain that 
worth. 

The Gospel assigns very different degrees of importance 
to allowed practices and commanded duties. It by no 
means censures those who were rigorous in their payment 
of the most inconsiderable tithes; but seeing this duty 
was not only put in competition with, but preferred before, 
the most important duties, even judgment, mercy, and 
faith, the flagrant hypocrisy was pointedly censured by 

MEEKNESS itSClf 

This opposition of a scrupulous exactness in paying the 
petty demand on three paltry herbs, to the neglect of the 
three cardinal Christian virtues, exhibits as complete and 
instructive a specimen of that frivolous and false zeal, 
which, evaporating in trifles, wholly overlooks those grand 
points on which hangs eternal life, as can be conceived. 

This passage serves to corroborate a striking fact, that 
there is scarcely in Scripture any precept enforced which 
has not some actual exemplification attached to it. The 
historical parts of the Bible, therefore, are of inestimable 
value, were it only on this single ground, that the append- 
ed truths and principles, so abundantly scattered through 
them, are in general so happily illustrated by them. They 
are not dry aphorisms and cold propositions, which stand 
singly, and disconnected, but truths suggested by the 



TRUE AND FALSE ZEAL. 173 

event, but precepts growing out of the occasion. The re- 
collection of the principles recalls to the mind the instruc- 
tive story which they enrich, while the remembrance of 
the circumstance impresses the sentiment upon the heart. 
Thus the doctrine, like a precious gem, is at once pre- 
served and embellished by the narrative being made a 
frame in which to enshrine it. 

True zeal will first exercise itself in earnest desires, in 
increasing ardor to obtain higher degrees of illumination 
in our own minds ; in fervent prayer that this growing light 
may operate to the improvement of our practice, that the 
influences of divine grace may become more outwardly 
perceptible by the increasing correctness of our habits; 
that every holy affection may be followed by its correspon- 
dent act, whether of obedience, or of resignation, of doino-, 
or of suffering. °' 

But the effects of a genuine and enlightened zeal will 
not stop here. It willbe visible in our discourse with those 
to whom we may have a probability of being useful. But 
though we should not confine the exercise of our zeal to 
our conversation, nor our attention to the opinions and 
practices of others, yet this, when not done with a bustling 
kind of interference, and offensive forwardness, is proper 
and useful. It is indeed a natural effect of zeal to appear 
where it exists, as a fire which really burns will not be pre- 
vented from emitting both light and heat, yet we should 
labor principally to keep up "in our own minds the pious 
feelings which religion has excited there. The brightest 
flame will decay, if no means are used to keep it alive. 
Pure zeal will cherish every holy afl?ection, and by increas- 
ing every pious disposition will animate us to every duty. 
It will add new force to our hatred of sin, fresh contrition 
to our repentance, additional vigor to our resolutions, and 
will impart augmented energy to every virtue. It will give 
life to our devotions, and spirit to all our actions. 

When a true zeal has fixed these right afl^ections in our 
own hearts, the same principle will, as we have already 
observed, make us earnest to excite them in others. No 
good man wishes to go to heaven alone, and none ever 
wished others to go thither without earnestly endeavoring 
to awaken right afl^ections in them. That will be a false 
zeal which does not begin with the regulation of our own 
hearts. That will be an illiberal zeal which stops where 
it begins. A true zeal will extend itself through the whole 
sphere of its possessor's influence. Christian zeal, like 



174 TRUE AND FALSE ZEAL 

Christian charity, will begin at home, but neither the one 
nor the other must end there. 

But that we must not confine our zeal to mere conversa- 
tion, is not only implied, but expressed in Scripture. The 
apostle does not exhort us to be zealous only of good words, 
but of good works. True zeal ever produces true benevo- 
lence. It would extend the blessings which we ourselves 
enjoy, to the whole human race. It will consequently stir 
us up to exert all our influence to the extension of religion, 
to the advancement of every well concerted and well con- 
ducted plan, calculated to enlarge the limits of human hap- 
piness, and more especially to promote the eternal interests 
of human kind. 

But if we do not first strenuously labor for our own illu- 
mination, how shall we presume to enlighten others? It 
is a dangerous presumption, to busy ourselves in improving 
others, before we have diligently sought our own improve- 
ment. Yet it is a vanity not uncommon, that the first feel- 
ings, be they true or false, which resemble devotion, the 
first faint ray of knowledge which has imperfectly dawned, 
excites in certain raw minds an eager impatience to com- 
municate to others what they themselves have not yet 
attained. Hence the novel swarms of uninstructed in- 
structers, of teachers who have had no time to learn. The 
act previous to the imparting knowledge should seem to be 
that of acquiring it. Nothing would so effectually check 
an irregular, and improve a temperate zeal, as the personal 
discipline, the self-acquaintance which we have so repeat- 
edly recommended. 

True Christian zeal will always be known by its distin- 
guishing and inseparable properties. It will be warm 
indeed, not from temperament but principle.- — It will be 
humble, or it will not be Christian zeal. — It will restrain 
its impetuosity, that it may the more effectually promote 
its object. — It will be temperate, softening what is strong 
in the act, by gentleness in the manner. — It will be tolera- 
ting, willing to grant what it would itself desire. — It will 
be forbearing, in the hope that the oftence it censures may 
be an occasional failing, and not a habit of the mind. — It 
will be candid, making a tender allowance for those imper- 
fections which beings, fallible themselves, ought to expect 
from human infirmity. — It will be reasonable, employing 
fair argument and affectionate remonstrance, instead of 
irritating by the adoption of violence, instead of mortifying 
by the assumption of superiority. 



TRUE AND FALSE ZEAL. 175 

He, who in private society allows himself in violent 
anger, or unhallowed bitterness, or acrimonious railing, in 
reprehending the faults of another, might, did his power 
keep pace with his inclination, have recourse to other 
weapons. He would probably banish and burn, confiscate 
and imprison, and think then as he thinks now, that he is 
doing God service. 

If there be any quality which demands a clearer sight, 
a tighter rein, a stricter watchfulness than another, zeal is 
that quality. The heart where it is wanting has no eleva- 
tion; where it is not guarded, no security. The prudence 
with which it is exercised is the surest evidence of its in- 
tegrity ; for if intemperate, it not only raises enemies to 
ourselves, but to God. It augments the natural enmity to 
religion, instead of increasing her friends. 

But if tempered by charity, if blended with benevolence, 
if sweetened by kindness, if evinced to be honest by its 
influence on your ov/n conduct, and gentle by its effect on 
your manners, it may lead your irreligious acquaintance to 
inquire more closely in what consists the distinction be- 
tween them and you. You will already, by this mildness, 
have won their affections. Your next step may be to gain 
over their judgment. They may be led to examine what 
solid grounds of difference subsist between you and them. 
What substantial reason you have for not going their 
lengths. What sound argument they can offer for not go- 
ing yours. 

But it may possibly be asked, after ail, where do w^e 
perceive any symptoms of this inflammatory distemper? 
Should not the prevalence, or, at least, the existence of a 
disease be ascertained, previous to the application of the 
remedy? That it exists is sufficiently obvious, though it 
must be confessed, that among the higher ranks it has not 
hitherto spread very widely ; nor is its progress likely to 
be very alarming, or its effects very malignant. It is to 
be lamented that in every rank, indeed, coldness and indif- 
ference, carelessness and neglect, are the reigning epidem- 
ics. These are diseases far more difficult of cure, diseases 
not more dangerous to the patient than distressing to tho^ 
physician, who generally finds it more difficult to raise a 
sluggish habit than to lower an occasional heat. The im- 
prudently zealous man, if he be sincere, may, by a discreet 
regimen, be brought to a state of complete sanity; but to 
rouse from a state of morbid indifFcrence; to brace from a 
total relaxation of the system, must be the immediate Vv'ork 



176 INSENSIBILITY TO ETERNAL THINGS. 

of the great physician of souls; of him who can effect 
even this, by his Spirit accompanying this powerful word, 
" Awake, thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and 
Christ shall give thee light." 



CHAP. XVIII. 

Insensibility to Eternal Things. 

INSENSIBILITY to eternal things, in beings who are stand- 
ing on the brink of eternity, is a madness which would be 
reckoned among prodigies, if it were not so common. It 
would be altogether incredible, if the numberless instances 
we have of it, were only related, and not witnessed, were 
only heard of, and not experienced. 

If we had a certain prospect of a great estate, and a 
splendid mansion which we knew must be ours in a few 
days; and not only ours as a bequest, but an inheritance; 
not only as a possession, but a perpetuity; if, in the mean 
time, we rented, on a precarious lease, a paltry cottage in 
bad repair, ready to fall, and from which we knew we must 
at all events soon be turned out, depending on the proprie- 
tor's will, whether the ejectment might not be the next 
minute; would it argue wisdom or even common sense, to- 
tally to overlook our near and noble reversion, and to be 
so fondly attached to our falling tenement, as to spend great 
part of our time and thoughts in supporting its ruins by 
props, and concealing its decays by decorations? To be 
so absorbed in the little sordid pleasures of this frail abode, 
as not even to cultivate a taste for the delights of the man- 
sion, where such treasures are laid up for us, and on the 
possession of which we fully reckon in spite of our neglect; 
this is an excess of inconsideration, which must be seen to 
be credited. 

It is a striking fact, that the acknowledged uncertainty 
of life drives worldly men to make sure of every thing de- 
pending on it, except their eternal concerns. It leads them 
to be regular in their accounts, and exact in their bargains. 
They are afraid of risking ever so little property, on so 
precarious a tenure as life, without insuring a reversion. 
There are even some who speculate on the uncertainty of 



INSENSIBILITY TO ETERNAL THINGS, 177 

life as a trade. Strange, that this accurate calculation of 
the duration of life should not involve a serious attention 
to its end! Strange, that the critical annuitant should to- 
tally overlook his perpetuity! Strange, that in the prudent 
care not to risk a fraction of property, equal care should 
not be taken, not to risk eternal salvation! 

We are not supposing flagitious characters, remarkable 
for any thing which the world calls wicked; we are not 
supposing their wealth obtained by injustice, or increased 
by oppression. We are only supposing a soul drawn aside 
from God, by the alluring baits of a world, which, like the 
treacherous lover of Atalanta, causes him to lose the victory 
by throwing golden apples in his way. The shining baits 
are obtained, but the race is lost! 

To worldly men of a graver cast, business may be as 
formidable an enemy as pleasure is to those of a lighter 
turn: business has so sober an air that it looks like virtue, 
and virtuous it certainly is, when carried on in a proper 
spirit, with due moderation, and in the fear of God. To 
have a lawful employment, and to pursue it with diligence, 
is not only right and honorable in itself, but is one of the 
best preservatives from temptation.* 

When a man pleads in his favor, the diligence business 
demands, the self-denying practices it imposes, the pa- 
tience, the regularity, the industry indispensable to its suc- 
cess, when he argues that these are habits of virtue, that 
they are a daily discipline to the moral man, and that the 
world could not subsist without business, he argues justly: 
but when he forgets his interests in the eternal world, when 
he neglects to lay up a treasure in heaven, in order that 
he may augment a store which he does not want, and, per- 
haps, does not intend to use, or uses to purposes merely 
secular, he is a bad calculator of the relative value of things. 

Business has an honorable aspect as being opposed to 
idleness, the most hopeless offspring of the whole progeny 
of sin. The man of business comparing himself with the 
man of dissipation, feels a fair and natural consciousness 
of his own value, and of the superiority of his own pursuits. 
But it is by comparison that we deceive ourselves to our 
ruin. Business, whether professional, commercial, or po- 
litical, endangers minds of a better cast, minds which look 

* That accurate judge of human life, Dr. Johnson, has often been lieard, 
by the writer of these pages, lo observe, that it was the greatest misfortune 
which could befall a man, to have been bred to no profession, and patheti- 
cally to regret that this misfortune was his own. 



178 INSENSIBILITY TO ETERNAL THINGS. 

down on pleasure as beneath a thinking being. But if 
business absorb the affections, if it swallow up time, to the 
neglect of eternity; if it generate a worldly spirit; if it 
cherish covetousness; if it engage the mind in long views, 
and ambitious pursuits, it may be as dangerous, as its 
more inconsiderate and frivolous rival. The grand evil of 
both lies in the alienation of the heart from God. Nay, 
in one respect, the danger is greater to him who is the 
best employed. The man of pleasure, however thoughtless, 
can never make himself believe that he is doing right. The 
man plunged in the serious bustle of business, cannot easily 
persuade himself that he may be doing wrong. 

Commutation, compensation, and substitution, are the 
grand engines v/hich worldly religion incessantly keeps 
in play. Hers is a life of barter, a state of spiritual traffic, 
so much indulgence for so many good works. The -impli- 
cation is, "we have a rigorous master," and it is but fair 
to indemnify ourselves for the severity of his requisitions; 
just as an overworked servant steals a holiday, "These 
persons," says an eminent writer,* " maintain a meum and 
tuum with heaven itself" They set bounds to God's pre- 
rogative, lest it should too much encroach on man's privi- 
lege. 

We have elsewhere observed, that if we invite people to 
embrace religion on the mere mercenary ground of present 
pleasure, they will desert it as soon as they find themselves 
disappointed. Men are too ready to clamor for the pleas- 
ures of piety, before they have, I dare not say, entitled 
themselves to them, but put themselves into the way of 
receiving them. We should be angry at that servant, who 
made the receiving of his wages a preliminary to the per- 
formance of his work. This is not meant to establish the 
merit of works, but the necessity of our seeking that trans- 
forming and purifying change which characterizes the real 
Christian; instead of complaining that we do not possess 
those consolations, v/hich can be consequent only on such 
a mutation of the mind. 

But if men consider this world on the true scripture 
ground, as a state of probation; if they consider religion as 
a school for happiness indeed, but of which the consumma- 
tion is only to be enjoyed in heaven, the Christian hope 
will support them; the Christian faith will strengthen them 
They will serve diligently, wait patiently, love cordially, 

*Tlie learned and |.moiis John Sniifli. 



INSEiXSIBILITY TO ETERNAL THINGS. 179 

obey faitlifully, and be steadfast under all trials, sustained 
by the cheering promise held out to him " who endures to 
the end." • 

There are certain characters who seem to have a graduat- 
ed scale of vices. Of this scale they keep clear of the lowest 
degrees, and to rise above the highest they are not ambitious, 
forgetful that the same principle which operates in the 
greater, operates also in the less. A life of incessant grati- 
fication does not alarm the conscience, yet it is equally 
unfavorable to religion, equally destructive of its principle, 
equally opposite to its spirit, with more obvious vices. 

These are the habits which, by relaxing the mind and 
dissolving the heart, particularly foster indifference to our 
spiritual state and insensibility to the things of eternity. A 
life of voluptuousness, if it be not a life of actual sin, is a 
disqualification for holiness, for happiness, for heaven. It 
not only alienates the heart from God, but lays it open to 
every temptation to which natural temper may invite, or 
incidental circumstances allure. The worst passions lie 
dormant in hearts given up to selfish indulgences, always 
ready to start into action as occasion calls. 

Voluptuousness and irreligion play into each other's 
hands: they are reciprocally cause and effect. The loose- 
ness of the principle confirms the carelessness of the 
conduct, while the negligent conduct in its own vindication 
shelters itself under the supposed security of unbelief. The 
instance of the rich man in the parable of Lazarus, strik- 
ingly illustrates this truth. 

Whoever doubts that a life of sensuality is consistent 
with the most unfeeling barbarity to the wants and suffer- 
ings of others; whoever doubts that boundless expense and 
magnificence, the means of procuring which were wrung 
from the robbery and murder of a lacerated world, may not 
be associated with that robbery and murder, — let him turn 
to the gorgeous festivities and unparalleled pageantries of 
Versailles and St. Cloud. — There the imperial harlequin, 
from acting the deepest and the longest tragedy that 
ever drew tears of blood from' an audience composed of the 
whole civilized globe, by a sudden stroke of his magic 
wand, shifts the scene to the most preposterous panto- 
mime : — 

Where moody madness laughing wild" 
Amidst severest wo, 

gloomily contemplates the incongruous spectacle, sees the 



180 INSENSIBILITY TO ETERNAL THINGS. 

records of the Tyburn Chronicle embelHshed with the wan- 
ton splendors of the Arabian tales; beholds 

Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things^ 

beholds tyranny with his painted visor of patriotism, and 
polygamy with her Janus face of political conscience and 
counterfeit affection, fill the fore ground; while sceptered 
parasites, and pinchbeck potentates, tricked out with the 
shining spoils of plundered empires, and decked with the 
pilfered crowns of deposed and exiled monarchs, fill and 
empty the changing scene, with "exits and with entrances," 
as fleeting and unsubstantial as the progeny of Banquo; — 
beholds inventive but fruitless art, solicitously decorate the 
ample stage to conceal the stains of blood — stains as indeli- 
ble as those which the ambitious wife of the irresolute 
Thane vainly strove to wash from her polluted hands, while 
in her sleeping delirium she continued to cry, 

Still here's the smell of blood; 

The perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten it. 

But to return to the general question. Let us not in- 
quire whether these unfeeling tempers and selfish habits 
offend society, and discredit us with the world; but whether 
they feed our corruptions and put us in a posture unfavora- 
ble to all interior improvement; whether they offend God 
and endanger the soul; whether the gratification of self is 
the life which the Redeemer taught or lived; whether sen- 
suality is a suitable preparation for that state where God 
himself, who is a spirit, will constitute all the happiness of 
spiritual beings. 

But these are not the only, perhaps not the greatest 
dangers. The intellectual vices, the spiritual offences, may 
destroy the soul without much injuring the credit. These 
have not, like voluptuousness, their seasons of alternation 
and repose. Here the principle is in continual operation. 
Envy has no interval. Ambition never cools. Pride never 
sleeps. The principle at least is always awake. An in- 
temperate man is sometimes sober, but a proud man is never 
humble. Where vanity reigns, she reigns always. These 
interior sins are more difficult of extirpation, they are less 
easy of detection, more hard to come at; and, as the citadel 
sometimes holds out afler the outworks are taken, these 
sins of the heart are the latest conquered in the moral wai 
fare. 

Here lies the distinction between the world! v and the re- 



INSENSIBILITY TO ETERNAL THINGS. 181 

iio-ious man. It is alarm enough for the Christian that he 
fe'els any propensities to vice. Against these propensities 
he watches, strives and prays: and though he is thankful 
for the victory when he has resisted the temptation, he can 
feel no elation of heart while conscious of inward dispositions, 
which nothing but divine grace enables him to keep from 
breaking out into a flame. He feels that there is no way to 
obtain the pardon of sin but to leave off sinning: He feels 
that though repentance is not a Saviour, yet that there can 
be no salvation where there is no repentance. Above all, 
he knows that the promise of remission of sin by the death 
as Christ is the only solid ground of comfort. However 
correct his present life may be, the weight of past offences 
would hang so heavy on his conscience, that without the 
atoning blood of his Redeemer, despair of pardon for the past 
would leave him hopeless. He would continue to sin, as 
an extravagant bankrupt, who can get no acquittal, would 
continue to be extravagant, because no present frugality 
could redeem his former debts. 

It is sometimes pleaded that the labor attached to per- 
sons in high public stations, and important employments, 
by leaving them no time, furnishes a reasonable excuse for 
the omission of their religious duties. These apologies are 
never offered for any such neglect in the poor man, though 
to him every day brings the inevitable return of his twelve 
hours' labor without intermission and without mitigation. 

But surely the more important the station, the higher and 
wider the sphere of action, the more imperious is the call 
for religion, not only in the way of example, but even in the 
way ofluccess ; if it be indeed granted that there is such a 
thing as divine influences, if it be allowed that God has a 
blessing to bestow. If the ordinary man who has only him- 
self to govern, requires that aid, how urgent is his necessity 
who htTs to govern millions? What an awful idea, could 
we even suppose it realized, that the weight of a nation 
mif^ht rest on the head of him whose heart looks not up for 
a higher support! 

Were we alluding to sovereigns, and not to statesmen, we 
need not look beyond the throne of Great Britain for the 
instance of a monarch who has never made the cares atten- 
dant on a king an excuse for neglecting his duty to the 
King of kings. 

The politician, the warrior, and the orator, find it pe- 
culiarly hard to renounce in themselves that wisdom and 
strength to which thev believe that the rest of the world 



182 INSENSIBILITY TO ETERNAL THINGS. 

are looking up. The man of station or of genius, when in- 
vited to the self-denying duties of Christianity, as well as 
he who has " great possessions," goes away " sorrowing." 

But to know that they must end, stamps vanity on all 
the glories of life; to know that they must end soon, stamps 
infatuation, not only on him who sacrifices his conscience 
for their acquisition, but on him who, though upright in the 
discharge of his duties, discharges them without any refer- 
ence to God. — Would the conqueror or the orator reflect 
when the " laurel crown is placed on his brow, how soon 
it will be followed by the cypress wreath," it would lower 
the delirium of ambition, it would cool the intoxication of 
prosperity. 

There is a general kind of belief in Christianity, preva- 
lent among men of the world, which, by soothing the con- 
science, prevents self-inquiry. That the holy »Scriptures 
contain the will of God, they do not question; that they 
contain the best system of morals, they frequently assert: 
but they do not feel the necessity of acquiring a correct 
notion of the doctrines those Scriptures involve. The 
depravity of man, the atonement made by Christ, the as- 
sistance of the Holy Spirit — these they consider as the 
metaphysical part of religion, into which it is not of much 
importance to enter, and by a species of self-flattery, they 
satisfy themselves with an idea of acceptableness with their 
Maker, as a state to be attained without the humility, faith, 
and newness of life v/hich they require, and which are 
indeed their proper concomitants. 

A man absorbed in a multitude of secular concerns, de- 
cent but unawakened, listens, with a kind of respectful 
insensibility, to the overtures of religion. He considers 
the church as venerable from her antiquity, and important 
from her connection v/ith the state. No one is more alive 
to her political, nor more dead to her spiritual importance. 
He is anxious for her existence, but indifferent to her 
doctrines. These he considers as a general matter in 
which he has no individual concern. He considers relig- 
ious observances as something decorous but unreal; as a 
grave custom made respectable by public usage, and long 
prescription. He admits that the poor who ha/e little to 
enjoy, and the idle who have little to do, cannot do better 
than make over to God that time which cannot be turned 
to a more profitable account. Religion, he thinks, may 
properly enough employ leisure, and occupy old age. But 
though both advance towards himself with no impercepti- 



INSENSIBILITY TO ETERNAL THINGS. 183 

ble step, he is still at a loss to determine the precise period 
when the leisure is sufficient, or the age enough advanced. 
It recedes as the destined season approaches. He contin- 
ues to intend moving, but he continues to stand still. 

Compare his drowsy sabbaths with the animation of the 
days of business, you would not think it was the same 
man. The one are to be got over, the others are enjoyed. 
He goes from the dull decencies, the shadowy forms, for 
such*^they are to him, of public worship, to the solid reali- 
ties of his worldly concerns, to the cheerful activities of 
secular life. These he considers as bounden, almost as 
exclusive duties. The others indeed may not be wrong, 
but these he is sure are right. The world is his element. 
Hero he breathes freely his native air. Here he is sub- 
stantially engaged. Here his whole mind is alive, his 
understanding broad awake, all his energies are in full 
play; his mind is all alacrity; his faculties are employed, 
his capacities are filled; here they have an object worthy 
of their widest expansion. Here his desires and affections 
are absorbed. The faint impression of the Sunday's ser- 
mon fades away, to be as faintly revived on the Sunday 
following, again to fade in the succeeding week. To the 
sermon he brings a formal, ceremonious attendance; to 
the world he brings all his heart, and soul, and mind, and 
stren<Tth. To the one he resorts in conformity to law and 
custom; to induce him to resort to the other, he wants 
no law, no sanction, no invitation, no argument. His will 
is of the party. His passions are volunteers. The invisi- 
ble things of heaven are clouded in shadow, are lost in 
distancer The world is lord of the ascendant. Riches, 
honors, power, fill his mind with brilliant images. They 
are present, they are certain, they are tangible. They 
assume form and bulk. In these therefore he cannot be 
mistaken; in the others he may. The eagerness of com- 
petition, the struggle for superiority, the perturbations of 
ambition, fill his "mind with an emotion, his soul with an 
ao-itation, his affections with an interest, which, though 
very unlike happiness, he yet flatters himself is the\oad to 
it. This factitious pleasure, this tumultuous feeling pro- 
duces at least that negative satisfaction of which he is con- 
stantly in search — it keeps him from himself 

Even in circumstances where there is no success to 
present a very tempting bait, the mere occupation, the 
crowd of objects, the succession of engagements, the ming- 
ling pursuits, the very tumult and hurry have their gratifi- 



184 INSENSIBILITY TO ETERNAL THINGS. 

cations. The bustle gives false peace by leaving no leisure 
for reflection. He lays his conscience asleep with the 
" flattering unction " of good intentions. He comforts 
himself with the creditable pretence of want of time, and 
the vague resolution of giving up to God the dregs of that 
life, of the vigorous season of which he thinks the world 
more worthy. Thus commuting with his Maker, life wears 
away, its close draws near — and even the poor commuta- 
tion which was promised is not made. The assigned hour 
of retreat either never arrives, or if it does arrive, sloth 
and sensuality are resorted to, as the fair reward of a life 
of labor and anxiety; and whether he dies in the protracted 
pursuit of wealth, or in the enjoyment of the luxuries it has 
earned, he dies in the trammels of the world. 

If we do not cordially desire to be delivered from the 
dominion of these worldly tempers, it is because we do not 
believe in the condemnation annexed to their indulgence. 
We may indeed believe it as we believe any other general 
proposition, or any indifferent fact; but not as a truth in 
which we have a personal concern; not as a danger which 
has any reference to us. We evince this practical unbelief 
in the most unequivocal way, by thinking so much more 
about the most frivolous concern in which we are assured 
we have an interest, than about this most important of all 
concerns. 

Indiflierence to eternal things, instead of tranquillizing 
the mind, as it professes to do, is, when a thoughtful mo- 
ment occurs, a fresh subject of uneasiness; because it 
adds to our peril the horror of not knowing it. If shutting 
our eyes to a danger would prevent it, to shut them would 
not only be a happiness but a duty; but to barter eternal 
safety for momentary ease, is a wretched compromise. 
To produce this delusion, mere inconsideration is as effi- 
cient a cause as the most prominent sin. The reason why 
we do not value eternal things is, because we do not think 
of them. The mind is so full of what is present, that it 
has no room to admit a thought of what is to come. Not 
only we do not give that attention to a never-dying soul 
which prudent men give to a common transaction, but we 
do not even think it worth the care which inconsiderate 
men give to an inconsiderable one. We complain that life 
is short, and yet throw away the best part of it, only 
making over to religion that portion which is good for 
nothing else; life would be long enough if we assigned its 
best period to its best purpose. 



INSENSIBILITY TO ETERNAL THINGS. ] 85 

Say not that the requisitions of religion are severe, ask 
rather if they are necessary. If a thing must absolutely 
be done, if eternal misery will be incurred by not doing it, 
it is fruitless to inquire whether it be hard or easy. In- 
quire only whether it be indispensable, whether it be com- 
manded, whether it be practicable. It is a well known 
axiom in science, that difficulties are of no weight against 
demonstrations. The duty on which our eternal state 
depends, is not a thing to be debated, but done. The duty 
which is too imperative to be evaded, too important to be 
neglected, is not to be argued about, but performed. To 
sin on quietly, because you do not intend to sin always, is 
to live on a reversion which will probably never be yours. 

It is folly to say that religion drives men to despair; 
when it only teaches them by a salutary fear to avoid des- 
truction. The fear of God differs from all other fear, for 
it is accompanied with trust, and confidence, and love. 
"Blessed is the man that feareth alway " is no paradox to 
him who entertains this holy fear. It sets him above the 
fear of ordinary troubles. It fills his heart. He is not 
discomposed with those inferior apprehensions which un- 
settle the soul and unhinge the peace of worldly men. His 
mind is occupied with one grand concern, and is therefore 
less liable to be shaken than little minds which are filled 
with little things. Can that principle lead to despair which 
proclaims the mercy of God in Christ Jesus to be greater 
than all the sins of all the men in the world? 

If despair then prevent your return, add not to your list 
of offences that of doubting of the forgiveness which is 
sincerely implored. You have already wronged God in 
his holiness, wrong him not in his mercy. You may offend 
him more by despairing of his pardon than by all the sins 
which have made that pardon necessary. Repentance, if 
one may venture the bold remark, almost disarms God of 
the power to punish. Hear his style and title as proclaim- 
ed by himself — " The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and 
gracious, long suffering, and abundant in goodness and 
truth, keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity, 
transgression and sin, and that will by no means clear the 
guilty " — that is, those who by unrepented guilt exclude 
themselves from the offered mercy. 

If infidelity or indifference, which is practical infidelity, 
keep you back, yet, as reasonable beings, ask yourselves 
a few short questions, "for what end was I sent into the 
world? Is my soul immortal? Am I really placed here in a 



186 INSENSIBILITY TO ETERNAL THINGS. 

state of trial, or is this span my all? Is there an eternal 
state? If there be, will the use I make of this life decide 
on my condition in that? I know that there is death, but 
is there a judgment? " 

Rest not till you have cleared up, I do not say your own 
evidences for heaven ; — you have much to do before you 
arrive at that stage — but whether there be any heaven? 
Ask yourself whether Christianity is not important enough 
to deserve being inquired into? Whether eternal life is 
not too valuable to be entirely overlooked? Whether eter- 
nal destruction, if a reality, is not worth avoiding? — If 
you make these interrogations sincerely, you will make 
them practically. — They will lead you to examine your own 
personal interest in these things. Evils which are ruining 
us for want of attention to them, lessen, from the moment 
our attention to them begins. True or false, the question 
is worth settling. Vibrate then no longer between doubt 
and certainty. If the evidence be inadmissible, reject it. 
But if you can once ascertain these cardinal points, then 
throw away your time if you can, then trifle with eternity 
if you dare* 

It is one of the striking characters of the Omnipotent 
that " he is strong and patient." It is a standing evidence 
of his patience that "he is provoked every day." How 
beautifully do these characters reflect lustre on each other. 
If he were not strong, his patience would want its distin- 
guishing perfection. If he were not patient, his strength 
would instantly crush those who provoke him, not some- 
times, but often; not every year, but " every day." 

Oh you, who have a long space given you for repentance, 
confess that the forbearance of God, when viewed as 
coupled v/ith his strength, is his most astonishing attribute! 
Think of the companions of your early life; — if not your 
associates in actual vice, if not your confederates in guilty 
pleasures, yet the sharers of your thoughtless meetings, of 
your convivial revelry, of your worldly schemes, of your 

^- An awakening call to public and individual feelings, has been recently 
made by an observation of an eloquent speaker in the house of Commons. 
He remarked that himself and the honorable Member for Yorkshire, then 
silting on a Committee appointed on occasion of a great national calamity, 
were the only surviving Members of the Committee on a similar occasion 
twenty-two years ago! The call is the more alarming, because the mortality 
did not arise from some extraordinary cause which might not again occur, 
but was in the common course of human things. Such a proportion of 
deaths is perpetually taking place, but the very frequency which ought to ex- 
cite attention prevents itj till it is thus forced on our notice. 



INSENSIBILITY TO ETERNAL THINGS. 187 

ambitious projects,— think how many of them have been 
cut off, perhaps without warning, probably without repent- 
ance. Theij have been presented to their Judge; their 
doom, whatever it be, is irreversibly fixed; yours is mer- 
cifiilly suspended. Adore the mercy: embrace the sus- 
pension. . 

Only suppose if they could be permitted to come back 
to this world, if they could be allowed another period of 
trial, how would they spend their restored life ! How cor- 
dial would be their penitence, how intense their devotion, 
how profound their humility, how holy their actions! Think 
then that you have still in your power that for which they 
would give millions of worlds. "Hell," says a pious 
writer, " is truth seen too late." • j c • 

In almost every mind there sometimes float indefinite 
and general purposes of repentance. The operation of 
these purposes is often repelled by a real though disavowed 
skepticism. " Because sentence is not executed speedily," 
they suspect it has never been pronounced. They there- 
fore think they may safely continue to defer their intended 
but unshapen purpose.— Though they sometimes visit the 
sick beds of others, though they see how much disease dis- 
qualifies for all duties, yet to this period of incapacity, to 
this moment of disquahfication do they continue to defer 
this tremendously important concern. 

What an image of the divine condescension does it 
convey, that " the goodness of God leadeth to repentance!" 
It does'not barely invite, but it conducts. Every warning 
is more or less an invitation; every visitation is a lighter 
stroke to avert a heavier blow. This was the way in which 
the heathen world understood portents and prodigies, and 
on this interpretation of them they acted. Any alarming 
warning, whether rational or superstitious, drove them to 
their temples, their sacrifices, their expiations. Does our 
clearer light always carry us farther? Does it in these 
instances^ always carry us as far as natural conscience 
carried them ? 

The final period of the worldly man at length arrives; 
but he will not believe his danger. Even if he fearfully 
glance round for an intimation of it in every surrounding 
face, every face, it is too probable, is in a league to de- 
ceive him. What a noble opportunity is now oficred to the 
Christian physician to show a kindness as far superior to 
anv he has ever shown, as the concerns of the soul are su- 
perior to those of the body! Oh let him not fear prudently 



188 INSENSIBILITY TO ETERNAL THINGS. 

to reveal a truth for which the patient may bless him in 
eternity! Is it not sometimes to be feared that in the hope 
of prolonging for a little while the existence of the perish- 
ing body, he robs the never-dying soul of its last chance 
of pardon ? Does not the concern for the immortal part 
united with his care of the afflicted body, bring the medi- 
cal professor to a nearer imitation than any other suppos- 
able situation can do, of that divine Physician who never 
healed the one without manifesting a tender concern for 
the other? 

But the deceit is short, is fruitless. The amazed spirit is 
about to dislodge. Who shall speak its terror and dismay.'* 
Then he cries out in the bitterness of his soul, " what ca- 
pacity has a diseased man, what time has a dying man, 
what disposition has a sinful man to acquire good princi- 
ples, to unlearn false notions, to renounce bad practices, 
to establish right habits, to begin to love God, to begin to 
hate sin? How is the stupendous concern of salvation to 
be worked out by a mind incompetent to the most ordinary 
concerns?" 

The infinite importance of what he has to do — the goad- 
ing conviction that it must be done — the utter inability of 
doing it — the dreadful combination in his mind of both the 
necessity and incapacity — the despair of crowding the con- 
cerns of an age into a moment — the impossibility of begin- 
ning a repentance which should have been completed — of 
setting about a peace which should have been concluded — 
of suing for a pardon which should have been obtained; — 
all these complicated concerns — without strength, without 
time, without hope, with a clouded memory, a disjointed 
reason, a wounded spirit, undefined terrors, remembered 
sins, anticipated punishment, an angry God, an accusing 
conscience, all together, intolerably augment the sufferings 
of a body which stands in little need of the insupportable 
burden of a distracted mind to aggravate its torments. 

Though we pity the superstitious weakness of the Ger- 
man Emperor in acting over the anticipated solemnities of 
his own funeral; that eccentric act of penitence of a great 
but perverted mind; it would be well if we were now and 
then to represent to our minds while in sound health, the 
solemn certainties of a dying bed ; if we were sometimes 
to image to ourselves this awful scene, not only as inevita- 
ble but as near; if we accustomed ourselves to see things 
now, as we shall then wish we had seen them. Surely the 
most sluggish insensibility must be roused by figuring to 



INSENSIBILITY TO ETERNAL THINGS. 189 

itself the rapid approach of death, the nearness of our un- 
alterable doom, our instant transition to that state of unut- 
terable bliss or unimaginable wo to which death will in a 
moment consign us. Such a mental representation would 
assist us in dissipating the illusion of the senses; would 
help to realize what is invisible, and to approximate what 
we think remote. It would disenchant us from the world, 
tear off her painted mask, shrink her pleasures into their 
proper dimensions, her concerns into their real value, her 
enjoyments into their just compass, her promises into 
nothing. 

Terrible as the evil is, if it must, and that at no distant 
day, be met, spare not to present it to your imagination; 
not to lacerate your feelings but to arm your resolution; 
not to excite unprofitable distress, but to strengthen your 
taith. If it terrify you at first, draw a little nearer to it 
every time. Familiarity will abate the terror. If you 
cannot face the image, how will you encounter the reality? 

Let us then figure to ourselves the moment (who can 
say that moment may not be the next?) when all we cling 
to shall elude our grasp ; when every earthly good shall be 
to us as if it had never been, except in the remembrance 
of the use we have made of it ; when our eyes shall close 
upon a world of sense, and open on a world of spirits; 
when there shall be no relief for the fainting body, and no 
refuge for the parting soul, except that single refuge to 
which, perhaps, we have never thought of resorting — that 
refuge which if we have not despised we have too probably 
neglected — the everlasting mercies of God in Christ Jesus. 

Reader! whoever you are, who have neglected to re- 
member that to die is the end for which you were born, 
know that you have a personal interest in this scene. 
Turn not away from it in disdain, however feebly it may 
have been represented. You may escape any other evil 
of life, but its end you cannot escape. Defer not then its 
weightiest concern to its weakest period. Begin not the 
preparation when you should be completing the work. 
Delay not the business which demands your best faculties 
to the period of their debility, probably of their extinction. 
Leave not the work which requires an age to do, to be 
done in a moment, a moment too which may not be grant- 
ed. The aUernative is tremendous. The diflierence is 
that of being saved or lost. It is no light thing to perish 



190 HAPPY DEATHS. 

CHAP. XIX. 
Happy Deaths. 

Few circumstances contribute more fatally to confirm 
in worldly men that insensibility to eternal things which 
was considered in the preceding chapter, than the boast- 
ful accounts we sometimes hear of the firm and heroic 
death-beds of popular but irreligious characters. Many 
causes contribute to these happy deaths as they are called 
The blind are bold, they do not see the precipice they de- 
spise, — Or perhaps there is less unwillingness to quit a 
world which has so often disappointed them, or which they 
have sucked to the last dregs. They leave life with less 
reluctance, feeling that they have exhausted all its gratifi- 
cations. — Or it is a disbelief of the reality of the state of 
which they are about to enter. — Or it is a desire to be re- 
leased from excessive pain, a desire naturally felt by those 
who calculate their gain, rather by what they are escaping 
from, than by what they are to receive. — Or it is equabili- 
ty of temper, or firmness of nerve, or hardness of mind. — 
Or it is the arrogant wish to make the last act of life con- 
firm its preceding professions. — Or it is the vanity of 
perpetuating their philosophic character. — Or if some faint 
ray of light break in, it is the pride of not retracting the 
sentiments which from pride they have maintained: — the 
desire of posthumous renown among their own party; the 
hope to make their disciples stand firm by their example; 
the ambition to give their last possible blow to revelation — 
or perhaps the fear of expressing doubts which might beget 
a suspicion that their disbelief was not so sturdy as they 
would have it thought. Above all, may they not, as a pun- 
ishment for their long neglect of the warning voice of truth, 
be given up to a strong delusion to believe the lie they have 
so often propagated, and really to expect to find in death 
that eternal sleep with which they have affected to quiet 
their own consciences, and have really weakened the faith 
of others. 

Every new instance is an additional buttress, on which 
the skeptical school lean for support, and which they pro- 
duce as a fresh triumph. With equal satisfaction they 
collect stories of infirmity, depression and want of courage 
in the dyintv jiour of religious men whom the nature of the 



HAPPY DEATHS. 191 

disease, timorousness of spirit, profound humilityj the sad 
remembrance of sin, thougii long repented of, and forgiven, 
a deep sense of the awfulness of meeting God in judgment; 
— whom some or ail of these causes may occasion to depart 
in trembling fear; in whom, though heaviness may endure 
through the night of death, yet joy cometh in the morning 
of the resurrection. 

It is a maxim of the civil law that definitions arc hazar- 
dous. And it cannot be denied that various descriptions 
of persons have hazarded much in their definitions of a hop- 
pif death. A very able and justly admired writer, who has 
distinguished himself by the most valuable works on polit- 
ical economy, has recorded, as proofs of the happy death 
of a no less celebrated contemporary, that he cheerfully 
amused himself in his last hours with Lucian, a game of 
WHIST, and some good humored drollery upon Charon and 
his boat. 

But may we not venture to say, with " one of the peo- 
ple called Christians,"* himself a wit and philosopher, 
though of the school of Christ, that the man who could 
meet death in , such a frame of mind "might smile over 
Babylon in ruins, esteem the earthquake which destroyed 
Lisbon an agreeable occurrence, and congratulate the har- 
dened Pharaoh on his overthrow in the Red Sea? " 

This eminent historian and philosopher, whose great in- 
tellectual powers it is as impossible not to admire, as not to 
lament their unhappy misapplication, has been eulogized 
by his friend, as coming nearer than almost any other man, 
to the perfection of human nature in his life ; and has been 
almost deified for the cool courage and heroic firmness with 
which he met death. His eloquent panegyrist, with as in- 
sidious an innuendo as has ever been thrown out against 
revealed religion, goes onto observe that, " perhaps it is 
one of the very worst circumstances against Christianity, 
that very few of its professors were ever either so moral, so 
humane, or could so philosopically govern their passions, 
as the skeptical David Hume." 

Yet notwithstanding this rich embalming of so noble a 
compound of " matter and motion," we must be permitted 
to doubt one of the two things presented for our admiration; 
we must either doubt the so much boasted happiness of his 
death, or the so much extolled humanity of his heart. We 
must be permitted to suspect the soundness of that benevo- 

* Tlie lalo cxceilcMit V,h\\o\) Ilonic. Sec- Iii^ Lrfki •• (o Dr. A^hiiii Sinitli. 



192 HAPPY DEATHS. 

lence which led him to devote his latest hours to prepare, 
under the label of cm Essay on Suicide, a potion for poster- 
ity, of so deleterious a quality, that if taken by the patient, 
under all the circumstances, in which he undertaJies to prove 
it innocent, might have gone near to effect the extinction 
of the whole human race. For if all rational beings, ac- 
cording to this posthumous prescription, are at liberty to 
procure their own release from life " under pain or sick- 
ness, shame or poverty," how large a portion of the world 
would be authorized to quit it uncalled! For how many 
are subject to the two latter grievances; from the two for- 
mer how few are altogether exempt!* 

The energy of that ambition which could concentrate 
the last efforts of a powerful mind, the last exertions of a 
spirit greedy of fame, into a project, not only for destroying 
the souls, but for abridging the lives of his fellow creatures, 
leaves at a disgraceful distance the inverted thirst of glory 
of the man, who, to immortalize his own name, set fire to 
the temple at Ephesus. Such a burning zeal to annihilate 
the eternal hope of his fellow creatures might be philosophy; 
but surely to authorize them to curtail their mortal exist- 
ence, which to the infidel who looks for no other, must be 
invaluable, was not philanthropy. 

But if this death was thought worthy of being blazoned 
to the public eye in all the warm and glowing colors with 
which affection decorates panegyric, the disciples of the 
same school have been in general anxiously solicitous to 
produce only the more creditable instances of invincible 
hardness of heart, while they have labored to cast an im- 
penetrable veil over the closing scene of those among the 
less inflexible of the fraternity, who have exhibited in their 
departing moments, aay symptoms of doubt, any indications 
of distrust, respecting the validity of their principles: — Prin- 
ciples which they had long maintained with so much zeal, 
and disseminated with so much industry. 

In spite of the sedulous anxiety of his satellites to conceal 
the clouded setting of the great luminary of modern infi- 
delity, from which so many minor stars have filled their lit- 
tle urns, and then set up for original lights themselves; in 

* Another part, of the Essay on Suicide has this passage. — " Whenever 
pain or sorrow so far overcome my patience, as to make me tired of life, 1 
may conchide that I am recalled from my station in the plainest and most ex- 
press terms." — And again — " When I fall upon my own sword, I receive my 
death equally from the hands of the Deity, as if it had proceeded from a lion, 
a precipice, or a fever." — And again — " Where is the crime of turning a 
few ounces of blood from their natural channel"? " 



HAPPY DEATHS. 193 

spite of the pains taken — for we must drop metaphor — to 
shroud from all eyes, except those of the initiated, the ter- 
ror and dismay with which the philosopher of Geneva met 
death, met his summons to appear before that God whose 
providence he had ridiculed, that Saviour whose character 
and offices he had vilified, — the secret was betrayed. In 
spite of the precautions taken by his associates to bury in 
congenial darkness the agonies which in his last hours con- 
tradicted the audacious blasphemies of a laborious life spent 
in their propagation, at last, like his great instigator, he 
believed and trembled. 

Whatever the sage of Ferney might be in the eyes of 
journalists, of academicians, of encyclopcBdists, of the roy- 
al author of Berlin, of revolutionists in the egg of his own 
hatching, of full grown infidels of his own spawning; of 
a world into which he had been for more than half a centu- 
ry industriously infusing a venom, the effects of which will 
be long felt, the expiring philosopher was no object of vene- 
ration to his NURSE. — She could have recorded " a tale to 
harrow up the soul," the horrors of which were sedulously 
attempted to be consigned to oblivion. But for this woman 
and a few other unbribed witnesses, his friends would proba- 
bly have endeavored to edify the world with this addition to 
the brilliant catalogue of happrj deaths.^ 

It has been a not uncommon opinion that the works of an 
able and truly pious Christian, by their happy tendency to 
awaken the careless and to convince the unbelieving, may, 
even for ages after the excellent author is entered into his 
eternal rest, by the accession of new converts which they 
bring to Christianity, continue to add increasing brightness 
to the crown of the already glorified saint. — If this be true, 
how shall imagination presume to conceive, much less how 
shall language express, what must be expected in the con- 
trary case ? How shall we dare turn our thoughts to the 

* It is u well attested fact that this woman, after his decease, being sent 
for to attend another person in dying circumstances, anxiously inquired if the 
patient was a gentleman, for that she had recently been so dreadfully terrified 
in witnessing the dying horrors of Mons. de Voltaire, which surpassed all 
description, that she had resolved never to attend any other person of that sex, 
unless she could be assured that he was not a philosopher. — Voltaire indeed, 
as he was deficient in the moral honesty and the other good qualities which 
obtained for Mr. Hume theafiectioiiof his friends, wanted his sincerity. Of 
all his other vices hypocrisy was the consummation. While he daily dislion- 
ored the Redeemer by the iiivcutinn of unheard of blasphemies; after he had 
bound himself by a solemn pledge never to rest till he had exterminated his 
very name from the face of the earth, he was not ashamed to- assist rcguliir 
Iv at the awful commemoration of his death at the Altai ! 



194 HAPPY DEATHS. 

progressive torments which may be ever heaping on the 
heads of those unhappy men of genius, who having devoted 
their rare talents to promote vice and infideUty, continue 
with fatal success to make successive proselytes through 
successive ages, if their works last so long, and thus accu- 
mulate on themselves anguish ever growing, miseries ever 
multiplying, without hope of any mitigation, without hope 
of any end, 

A more recent instance of the temper and spirit which 
the college of infidelity exhibits on these occasions, is per- 
haps less generally known. A person of our own time and 
country, of high rank and talents, and who ably filled a 
great public situation, had unhappily, in early life, im- 
bibed principles and habits analogous to those of a notori- 
ously profiigate society of which he was a member, a 
society, of which the very appellation it delighted to 
distinguish itself by, is 

Offence and torture to the sober ear. 

In the near view of death, at an advanced age, deep re- 
morse and terror took possession of his soul ; but he had 
no friend about him to whom he could communicate the 
state of his mind, or from whom he could derive either 
counsel or consolation. One day in the absence of his at- 
tendants, he raised his exhausted body on his dying bed, and 
threw himself on the floor, where he was found in great 
agony of spirit, with a prayer book in his hand. This detec- 
tion was at once a subject for ridicule and regret to his 
colleagues, and he was contemptuously spoken of as a pusil- 
lanimous deserter from the good cause. The phrase used 
by them to express their displeasure at his apostasy is too 
offensive to find a place here.* Were we called upon to 
decide between rival horrors, we should feel no hesitation 
in pronouncing this death a less unhappy one than those to 
which we have before alluded. 

Another well known skeptic, while in perfect health, 
took measures by a special order, to guard against any 
intrusion in his last sickness, by which he might, even in 
the event of delirium, betray any doubtful apprehension 
that there might be an hereafter; or in any other way be 
surprised in uttering expressions of terror, and thus ex- 
posing the state of his mind, in case any such revolution 
should take place, which his heart whispered him might 
possibly happen. 

* The writer had this anecdote from an acquaintance of the noble person 
at the time of his death. 



HAPPY DEATHS. 195 

But not only in those happij deaths which close a life of 
avowed impiety, is there great room for suspicion, but 
even in cases where without acknowledged infidelity, there 
has been a careless life; when in such cases we hear of a 
sudden death-bed revolution, of much seeming contrition, 
succeeded by extraordinary professions of joy and triumph, 
we should be very cautious of pronouncing on their real 
state. Let us rather leave the penitent of a day to that 
mercy against which he has been sinning through a whole 
life. These "Clinical Converts" (to borrow a favorite 
phrase of the eloquent Bishop Taylor) may indeed be true 
penitents; but how shall we pronounce them to be so? 
How can we conclude that " they are dead unto sin " un- 
less they be spared to " live unto righteousness? " 

Happily we are not called upon to decide. He to whose 
broad eye the future and the past lie open, as he has been 
their constant witness, so will he be their unerring judge.* 

But the admirers of certain happy deaths, do not even 
pretend that any such change appeared in the friends of 
whom they make not so much the panegyric as the apoth- 
eosis. They would even think repentance a derogation 
from the dignity of their character. They pronounce 
them to have been good enough as they were; insisting 
that they have a demand for happiness upon God, if there 
be any such Being; a claim upon heaven if there be any 
such place. They are satisfied that their friend, after a 
Hfe spent " without God in the world," without evidencing 
any marks of a changed heart, without even affecting any 
thing like repentance, without intimating that there was any 
call for it, died proxouncing himself happy. 

But nothing is more suspicious than a happy death, 
where there has neither been religion in the life nor humil- 
ity in its close, where its course has been without piety, 
and its termination without repentance. 

Others in a still bolder strain, disdaining the posthumous 
renown to be conferred by survivors, of their having died 
happily, prudently secure their own fame, and changing 

* The primitive church carried their incredulity of the appearances of re- 
pentance so far as to require not only years of sorrow for sin, but persever- 
ance in piety, before they would admit oflendcrs to their communion; and as 
a test of their sincerity, required the uniform practice of those virtues most 
opposite to their former vices — were this made the criterion now, we should 
not so often hear such flaming accounts of converls, so exultingly reported, 
before time has been allowed to try their stability. More especially we should 
not hear of so many triumphaiU relations of death-bed converts, in whom the 
symptoms must fre(|uently be too equivocal to admit the positive decision of 
human wisdom 



196 HAPPY DEATHS. 

both the tense and the person usual in monumental mscrip- 
tions, with prophetic confidence record on their own sepul- 
chral marble, that they shall die not only "happy" but 
" GRATEFUL " — the prcsciencc of philosophy thus assuming 
as certain, what the humble spirit of Christianity only pre- 
sumes to hope. 

There is another reason to be assigned for the charitable 
error of indiscriminately consigning our departed acquaint- 
ance to certain happiness. Affliction, as it is a tender, so 
it is a misleading feeling, especially in minds naturally soft, 
and but slightly tinctured with religion. The death of a 
friend awakens the kindest feelings of the heart. But by 
exciting true sorrow, it often excites false charity. Grief 
naturally softens every fault, love as naturally heightens 
every virtue. It is right and kind to consign error to obliv- 
ion, but not to immortality. Charity indeed we owe to the 
dead as well as to the living, but not that erroneous chari- 
ty by which truth is violated, and undeserved commenda- 
tion lavished on those whom truth could no longer injure. 
To calumniate the dead is even worse than to violate the 
rights of sepulture; not to vindicate calumniated worth, 
v/hen it can no longer vindicate itself, is a crime next to 
that of attacking it;* but on the dead, charity, though well 
understood, is often mistakingly exercised. 

If we were called upon to collect the greatest quantity 
of hyperbole — falsehood might be too harsh a term — in the 
least given time and space, we should do well to search for 
it in those sacred edifices expressly consecrated to truth. 
There we should see the ample mass of canonizing kind- 
ness which fills their mural decorations, expressed in all 
those flattering records inscribed by every variety of motive 
to every variety of claim. In addition to what is dedicated 

* What a generous instance of that disinterested attachment which sur- 
vives the grave of its object, and piously rescues his reputation from the as- 
saults of malignity, was given by the late excellent Bishop Porteus, in his 
aniinated defence of Archbishop Seeker! May his own fair fame never stand 
in need of any such warm vindication, which, however, it could not fail to 
find in the bosom of every good man! — The fine talents of this lamented pre- 
late, uniformly devoted to the purposes for which God gave them — his life 
directed to those duties to which his high professional station called him — hia 
Christian graces — those engaging manners which shed a soft lustre on the 
firm fidelity of his friendships — that kindness which was ever flowing from 
his heart to his lips — the benignity and candor which distinguished not his 
conversation only, but his conduct — these, and all those amiable qualities, that 
gentle temper and correct cheerfulness wilh which he adorned society, will 
ever endear his memory to all who knew him intimately; and let his friends 
remember, that to imitate his virtues will be the best proof of their remcm- 
oerins theni, 



HAPPY DEATHS. 197 

to real merit by real sorrow, we should hear of tears which 
were never shed, grief which was never felt, praise which 
was never earned; we should see what is raised by the 
decent demands of connection, by tender, but undiscern- 
ing friendship, by poetic license, by eloquent gratitude for 
testamentary favors. 

It is an amiable though not a correct feeling in human 
nature, that, fancying we have not done justice to certain 
characters during their lives, we run into the error of sup- 
posed compensation by over estimating them after their 
decease. 

On account of neighborhood, affinity, long acquaintance, 
or some pleasing qualities, we may have entertained a 
kindness for many persons, of whose state however, while 
they lived, we could not, with the utmost stretch of charity, 
think favorably. If their sickness has been long and se- 
vere, our compassion having been kept by that circumstance 
in a state of continual excitement ; though we lament their 
death, yet we feel thankful that their suffering is at an 
end. Forgetting our former opinion, and the course of 
life on which it was framed, we fall into all the common- 
places of consolation — "God is merciful — we trust that 
they are at rest — what a happy release they have had! " — 
Nay, it is well if we do not go so far as to entertain a kind 
of vague belief that their better qualities joined to their 
sufferings have, on the whole, ensured their felicity. 

Thus at once losing sight of that word of God which can- 
not lie, of our former regrets on their subject, losing the 
remembrance of their defective principles, and thoughtless 
conduct; without any reasonable ground for altering our 
opinion, any pretence for entertaining a better hope — we 
assume that they are happy. We reason as if we believed 
that the suffering of the body had purchased the salvation 
of the soul, as if it had rendered any doubt almost criminal. 
We seem to make ourselves easy on the falsest ground 
imaginable, not because we believe their hearts were 
changed, but because they are now beyond all possibility 
of change. 

But surely the mere circumstance of death will not have 
rendered them fit for that heaven for which we before fear- 
ed they were unfit. Far be it from us, indeed, blind and 
sinful as we are, to pass sentence upon them, to pass sen- 
tence upon amj. We dare not venture to pronounce what 
may have passed between God and their souls, even at the 
last hour We know that infinite mercy is not restricted to 



198 HAPPY DEATHS. 

times or seasons; to an early or a late repentance; we know 
not but in that little interval their peace was made, their 
pardon granted, through the atoning blood, and powerful 
intercession of their Redeemer. Nor should we too scru- 
pulously pry into the state of others, never, indeed, except 
to benefit them or ourselves; we should rather imitate the 
example of Christ, who at once gave an admirable lesson 
of meekness and charitable judgment, when avoiding an 
answer which might have led to fruitless discussion, he 
gave a reproof under the shape of an exhortation. — In re- 
ply to the inquiry, " are there few that be saved," he thus 
checked vain curiosity — "Strive (you) to enter in at the 
strait gate." On another occasion, in the same spirit, he 
corrected inquisitiveness, not by an answer, but by an 
interrogation and a precept — "What is that to thee.'' 
Follow thou me." 

But where there is strong ground to apprehend that the 
contrary may have been the case, it is very dangerous to 
pronounce peremptorily on the safety of the dead. Because 
if we allow ourselves to be fully persuaded that they are en- 
tered, upon a state of happiness, it will naturally and fatally 
tempt us to lower our own standard. If we are ready to 
conclude that theij are now in a state of glory whose princi- 
ples we believed to be incorrect, whose practice to say the 
least of it, we know to be negligent, who, without our 
indulging a censorious or a presumptuous spirit, we thought 
lived in a state of mind, and a course of habits, not only far 
from right, but even avowedly inferior to our own; will not 
this lead to the conclusion, either that we ourselves, stand- 
ing on so much higher ground, are in a very advanced state 
of grace, or that a much lower than ours may be a state of 
safety.'' And will not such a belief tend to slacken our 
endeavors, and to lower our tone, both of faith and prac- 
tice? 

By this conclusion we contradict the affecting assertion 
of a very sublime poet, 

For us they sicken and for us they die. 

For while we are thus taking and giving false comfort, 
our friend as to us will have died in vain. Instead of his 
death having operated as a warning voice, to rouse us to a 
more animated piety, it will be rather likely to lull us into 
a dangerous security. If our affection has so blinded our 
judgment, we shall by the indulgence of a false candor to 
another, sink into a false peace ourselves. 

It will be a wounding circumstance to the feelings of sur- 



HAPPY DEATHS. 199 

viving friendship, to see a person of loose habits, whom, 
though we loved yet we feared to admonish, and that, be- 
cause we loved him; for whom, though we saw his danger, 
yet perhaps we neglected to pray ; to see him brought to 
that ultimate and fixed state in which admonition is impossi- 
ble, in which prayer is not only fruitless, but unlawful. 

Another distressing circumstance frequently occurs. We 
meet with affectionate but irreligious parents, who though 
kind and perhaps amiable, have neither lived themselves, 
nor educated their families in Christian principles, nor in 
habits of Christian piety. A child at the age of maturity 
dies. Deep is the affliction of the doating parent. The 
world is a blank. He looks round for comfort where he has 
been accustomed to look for it, among his friends. He finds 
it not. He looks up for it where he has not been accustomed 
to seek it. Neither his heart nor his treasure has been laid 
up in heaven. Yet a paroxysm, of what may be termed 
natural devotion, gives to his grief an air of piety. The 
first cry of anguish is commonly religious. 

The lamented object perhaps, through utter ignorance of 
the awful gulf which was opening to receive him, added to 
a tranquil temper, might have expired without evidencing 
any great distress, and his happy death is industriously pro- 
claimed through the neigborhood, and the mourning parents 
have only to wish that their latter end may be like his. 
They cheat at once their sorrow and their souls, with the 
soothing notion that they shall soon meet their beloved 
child in heaven. Of this they persuade themselves as firm- 
ly and as fondly, as if both they and the object of their 
grief had been living in the way which leads thither. Oh 
for that unbought treasure, a sincere, a real friend, who 
might lay hold on the propitious moment! When the heart 
is softened by sorrow, it might possibly, if ever, be led to 
its true remedy. This would indeed be a more unequivocal, 
because more painful act of friendship, than pouring in the 
lulling opiate of false consolation, which we are too ready 
to administer, because it saves our own feelings while it 
soothes, without healing, those of the mourner. 

But perhaps the integrity of the friend conquers his timi- 
dity. Alas! he is honestly explicit to unattending or to 
ofR;rided ears. — They refuse to hear the voice of the char- 
mer. But if the mourners will not endure the voice of 
exhortation now, while there is hope, how will they endure 
the sound of the last trumpet when hope is at an end.^ If 
they will not bear the gentle whispers of friendship, how 



200 HAPPY DEATHS. 

will they bear the voice of the accusing angel, the terrible 
sentence of the incensed Judge ? If private reproof be in- 
tolerable, how will they stand the being made a spectacle 
to angels and to men, even to the whole assembled universe, 
to the whole creation of God? 

But instead of converting the friendly warning to their 
eternal benefit, they are probably wholly bent on their own 
vindication. Still their character is dearer to them than 
their soul. — " We never," say they, " were any man's ene- 
my." — Yes — you have been the enemy of all to whom you 
have given a bad example. You have especially been the 
eaemy of your children in whom you have implanted no 
Christian principles. Still they insist with the prophet that 
" there is no iniquity in them that can be called iniquity." 
"We have wronged no one," say they, " we have given 
to every one his due. We have done our duty." Your 
first duty was to God. You have robbed your Maker of 
the service due to him. You have robbed your Redeemer 
of the souls he died to save. You have robbed your own 
soul and too probably the souls of those whom you have so 
wretchedly educated, of eternal happiness. 

Thus the flashes of religion which darted in upon their 
conscience in the first burst of sorrow, too frequently die 
away; they expire before the grief which kindled them. 
They resort again to their old resource the world, which 
if it cannot soon heal their sorrow, at least soon diverts it. 

To shut our eyes upon death as an object of terror or ot 
hope, and to consider it only as a release or an extinction, 
is viewing it under a character which is not its own. 
But to get rid of the idea at any rate, and then boast that 
we do not fear the thing we do not think of, is not difficult 
Nor is it difficult to think of it without alarm if we do not 
include its consequences. But to him who frequently 
repeats, not mechanically but devoutly, " we know that 
THOU shalt "come to be our Judge," death cannot be a 
matter of indifference. 

Another cause of these happy deaths is, that many think 
salvation a slight thing, that heaven is cheaply obtained, 
that a merciful God is easily pleased, that we are Chris- 
tians, and that mercy comes of course to those who have 
always professed to believe that Christ died to purchase it 
for them. This notion of God being more merciful than he 
has any where declared himself to be, instead of inspiring 
them with more gratitude to him, inspires more confidence 
in themselves. This corrupt faith generates a corrupt 



HAPPY DEATHS. 201 

morality. It leads to this strange consequence, not to 
make them love God better, but to venture on offending 
him more. 

People talk as if the act of death made a complete change 
in the nature, as well as in the condition of man. Death 
is the vehicle to another state of being, but possesses no 
power to qualify us for that state. In conveying us to a 
new world it does not give us a new heart. It puts the 
unalterable stamp of decision on the character, but does 
not transform it into a character diametrically opposite 

Our affections themselves will be rather raised than 
altered. Their tendencies will be the same though their 
advancement will be incom.parably higher. They will be 
exalted in their degree but not changed in their nature. 
They will be purified from all earthly mixtures, cleansed 
from all human pollutions, the principle will be cleared 
from its imperfections, but it will not become another 
principle. He that is unholy will not be made holy by 
death. The heart will not have a new object to seek, but 
will be directed more intensely to the same object. 

They who loved God here will love him far more in 
heaven, because they will know him far better. There he 
will reign without a competitor. They who served him 
here in sincerity will there serve him in perfection. If 
" the pure in heart shall see God," let us remember that 
this purity is not to be contracted after we have been ad- 
mitted to its remuneration. The beatitude is pledged as a 
reward for the purity, not as a qualification for it. Purity 
will be sublimated in heaven, but will not begin to be pro- 
duced there. It is to be acquired by passing through the 
refiner's fire here, not through the penal and expiatory fire 
which human ingenuity devised to purge offending man, 

From the foul deeds done in his days of nature. 

The extricated spirit will be separated from the feculence 
of all that belongs to sin, to sense, to self We shall in- 
deed find ourselves new, because spiritualized beings; but 
if the cast of the mind were not in a great measure the 
same, how should we retain our identity? The soul will 
there become that which it here desired to be, that which 
it mourned because it was so far from being. It will have 
obtained that complete victory over its corruptions which 
it here only desired, which it here only struggled to obtain. 
Here our love of spiritual things is superinduced, there 
it will be our natural frame. The impression of God on 



202 HAPPY DEATHS. 

our hearts will be stamped deeper, but it will not be a 
different impression. Our obedience will be more volun- 
tary, because there will be no rival propensities to obstruct 
it. It will be more entire, because it will have to struggle 
with no counteracting force. — Here we sincerely though 
imperfectly love the law of God, even though it controls 
our perverse will, though it contradicts our corruptions. 
There our love will be complete, because our will will re- 
tain no perverseness, and our corruptions will be done 
away. 

Repentance, precious at all seasons, in the season ol 
health is noble. It is a generous principle when it over- 
takes us surrounded with the prosperities of life, when it is 
not put off till distress drives us to it. Seriousness of spirit 
is most acceptable to God when danger is out of sight, 
preparation for death when death appears to be at a dis- 
tance. 

Virtue and piety are founded on the nature of things, on 
the laws of God, not on any vicissitudes in human circum- 
stances. Irreligion, folly and vice, are just as unreason- 
able in the meridian of life as at the approach of death. 
They strike us differently but they always retain their own 
character. Every argument against an irrehgious death 
is equally cogent against an irreligious life. Piety and 
penitence may be quickened by the near view of death, but 
the reasons for practising them are not founded on its near- 
ness. Death may stimulate our fears for the consequences 
of vice, but furnishes no motive for avoiding it, which 
Christianity had not taught before. The necessity of 
religion is as urgent now as it will be when we are dying. 
It may not appear so, but the reality of a thing does not 
depend on appearances. Besides, if the necessity of being 
religious depended on the approach of death, what moment 
of our lives is there, in which we have any security 
against it? In every point of view therefore, the same 
necessity for being religious subsists when we are in full 
health as when we are about to die. 

We may then fairly arrive at this conclusion, that there 
is no happij death but that which conducts to a happij im- 
mortality; — No joy in putting off the body, if we have not 
put on the Lord Jesus Christ — No consolation in escaping 
from the miseries of time, till we have obtained a well 
grounded hope of a blessed eternity. 



ON THE SUFFERINGS OF GOOD MEN, 203 

CHAP. XX. 

0)1 the Sufferings of good Men. 

Affliction is the school in which great virtues are ac- 
quired, ill which great characters are formed. It is a 
kind of moral gymnasium, in which the disciples of Christ 
are trained to robust exercise, hardy exertion, and severe 
conflict. 

We do not hear of martial heroes in " the calm and 
piping time of peace," nor of the most eminent saints in 
the quiet and unmolested periods of ecclesiastical history. 
We are far from denying that the principle of courage in 
the warrior, or of piety in the saint continues to subsist, 
ready to be brought into action when perils beset the 
country or trials assail the church; but it must be allowed 
that in long periods of inaction, both are liable to decay. 

The Christian, in our comparatively tranquil day, is 
happily exempt from the trials and the terrors which the 
annals of persecution record. Thanks to the establish- 
ment of a pure Christianity in the church, thanks to the 
infusion of the same pure principle into our laws, and to 
the mild and tolerating spirit of both — a man is so far from 
being liable to pains and penalties for his attachment to his 
religion, that he is protected in its exercise; and were 
certain existing statutes enforced, he would even incur 
penalties for his violation of religious duties, rather than for 
his observance of them.* 

Yet still the Christian is not exempt from his individual, 
his appropriate, his undefined trials. We refer not merely 
to those "cruel mockings," which the acute sensibility of 
the apostle led him to rank in the same catalogue with 
bonds, imprisonments, exile and martyrdom itself We 
allude not altogether to those misrepresentations and ca- 
lumnies to which the zealous Christian is pecuharly liable; 
nor exclusively to those difficulties to which his very 
adherence to the principles he professes, must necessarily 
subject him; nor entirely to those occasional sacrifices of 
credit, of advancement, of popular applause; to which his 
refusing to sail with the tide of popular opinion may com- 
pel him; nor solely to the disadvantages which under 

* We allurle to tliR laws against s\v('arin<f. Mltpii.linu^ public worship, &c. 



204 OiN THE SUFFERINGS OF GOOD MEN. 

certain circumstances his not preferring expediency to 
principle may expose him. But the truly good man is not 
only often called to struggle with trials of large dimensions, 
with exigencies of obvious difficulty, but to encounter others 
which are better understood than defined. 

And duller would he be than the fat weed 
That rots itself at ease on Lethe's wharf, 

were he left to batten undisturbed, in peaceful security on 
the unwholesome pastures of rank prosperity. The thick 
exhalations drawn up from this gross soil render the at- 
mosphere so heavy as to obstruct the ascent of piety, her 
flagging pinions are kept down by the influence of this 
moist vapor; she is prevented from soaring, 

to live insphered 
In regions mild of calm and serene air, 
Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot 
Which men call earth. 

The pampered Christian thus continually gravitating to 
the earth, would have his heart solely bent to 

Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being. 
Unmindful of the crown religion gives 
After this mortal change, to her true servants. 

It is an unspeakable blessing that no events are left to 
the choice of beings, who from their blindness would seldom 
fail to choose amiss. Were circumstances at our own dis- 
posal, we should allot ourselves nothing but ease and success, 
but riches and fame, but protracted youth, perpetual health, 
unvaried happiness. 

All this, as it would be very unnatural, so perhaps it 
would not be very wrong, for beings who were always to 
live on earth. But for beings who are placed here in a 
state of trial, and not established in their final home, whose 
condition in eternity depends on the use they make of time, 
nothing would be more dangerous than such a power, 
nothing more fatal than the consequences to which such a 
power would lead. 

If a surgeon were to put into the hand of a wounded 
patient the probe or the lancet, with how much false ten- 
derness would he treat himself ! How skin-deep would be 
the examination, how slight the incision ! The patient would 
escape the pain, but the wound might prove mortal. The 
practitioner therefore wisely uses his instruments himself. 
He goes deep perhaps, but not deeper than the case de- 
mands. The pain may be acute, but the life is preserved. 



ON THE SUFFERINGS OF GOOD MEN. 205 

Thus He in whose hands we are, is too good, and loves 
us too well to trust us with ourselves. He knows that we 
will not contradict our own inclinations, that we will not 
impose on ourselves anj thing unpleasant, that we will not 
inflict on ourselves any voluntary pain, however necessary 
the infliction, however salutary the effect. God graciously 
does this for us himself, or he knows it would never be 
done. 

A Christian is liable to the same sorrows and suflermgs 
with other men: he has nowhere any promise of immunity 
from the troubles of life, but he has a merciful promise of 
support under them. He considers them in another view, 
he bears them with another spirit, he improves them to 
other purposes than those whose views are bounded by this 
world. Whatever may be the instruments of his suffering, 
whether sickness, losses, calumnies, persecutions, he knows 
that it proceeds from God; all means are his instruments. 
All inferior causes operate by his directing hand. 

We said that a Christian is liable to the same sufferings 
with other men. Might we not repeat what we have before 
said, that his very Christian profession is often the cause 
of his sufferings? They are the badge of his discipleship, 
the evidences of his father's love; they are at once the 
marks of God's favor, and the materials of his own future 
happiness. 

What were the arguments of worldly advantage held 
out through the whole New Testament to induce the world 
to embrace the religion it taught? What was the condition 
of St. Paul's introduction to Christianity? It was not — I 
will crown him with honor and prosperity, with dignity and 
pleasure, but — " I will show him how great things he must 
suffer for my nam.e's sake." 

What were the virtues which Christ chiefly taught in his 
discourses ? What were the graces he most recommended 
by his example? Self-denial, mortiiication, patience, long- 
suflfering, renouncing ease and pleasure. These are the 
marks which have ever since its first appearance, distin- 
guished Christianity from all the religions in the world, and 
on that account evidently prove its divine original. Ease, 
splendor, external prosperity, conquest, made no part of 
its estabhshment. Other empires have been founded in the 
blood of the vanquished, the dominion of Christ was found- 
ed in his own blood. Most of the beatitudes which infinite 
compassion pronounced, have the sorrows of earth for their 
subject, but the joys of heaven for their completion. 



'ilOG ON THE SUFFERINGS OF GOOD MEN. 

To establish this religion in the world, the Almighty, as 
his own word assures us, subverted kingdoms and altered 
the face of nations. "For thus saith the Lord of Hosts, " 
(by his prophet Haggai) " yet once, it is a little while, and 
I will shake the heavens and the earth, and the sea and 
the dry land; and I will shake all nations, and the desire 
of all nations shall come." Could a rehgion, the kingdom 
of which was to be founded by such awful means, be estab- 
lished, be perpetuated, without involving the sufferings of 
its subjects? 

If the Christian course had been meant for a path of 
roses, would the life of the Author of Christianity have 
been a path strewed with thorns? " He made for us," says 
bishop Jeremy Taylor, " a covenant of sufferings, his very 
promises were sufferings, his rewards were sufferings, and 
his arguments to invite men to follow him were only taken 
from sufferings in this life and the reward of sufl^erings 
hereafter." 

But if no prince but the prince of peace ever set out with 
a proclamation of the reversionary nature of his empire — 
if no other king, to allay avarice and check ambition, ever 
invited subjects by the unalluring declaration that "his 
kingdom was not of this world" — if none other ever de- 
clared that it was not dignity or honors, valor or talents, 
that made them "worthy of him," but "taking up the 
cross " — if no other ever made the sorrows which would 
attend his followers a motive for their attachment — yet no 
other ever had the goodness to promise, or the power to 
make his promise good, that he would give " rest to the 
heavy laden." Other sovereigns have " overcome the 
world" for their own ambition, but none besides ever thought 
of making the "tribulation " which should be the effect of 
that conquest, a ground for animating the fidelity of his 
followers — ever thought of bidding them "be of good 
cheer," because he had overcome the world in a sense 
which was to make his subjects lose all hope of rising in it. 

The apostle to the Philippians enumerated it among the 
honors and distinctions prepared for his most favored con- 
verts, not only that "they should believe in Christ," but 
that they should also " suffer for him." Any other religion 
would have made use of such a promise as an argument to 
deter, not to attract. That a religion should flourish the 
more under such discouraging invitations, with the threat 
of even degrading circumstances and absolute losses, is an 
unanswerable evidence that it was of no human origin. 



ON THE SUFFERINGS OF GOOD MEN. 207 

It is among the mercies of God, that he strengthens the 
virtues of his servants by hardening them under the cold 
and bracing climate of adverse fortune, instead of leaving 
them to languish under the shining but withering sun of 
unclouded prosperity. When they cannot be attracted to 
him by gentler influences, he sends these salutary storms 
and tempests, which purify while they alarm. Our gracious 
father knows that eternity is long enough for his children 
to be happy in. 

The character of Christianity may be seen by the very 
images of military conflict, under which the Scriptures so 
frequently exhibit it. Suffering is the initiation into a 
Christian's calling. It is his education for heaven. Shall the 
scholar rebel at the discipline which is to fit him for his 
profession, or the soldier at the exercise which is to qualify 
him for victory? 

But the Christian's trials do not all spring from without. 
He would think them comparatively easy, had he only the 
opposition of men to struggle against, or even the severer 
dispensations of God to sustain. If he has a conflict with 
the world, he has a harder conflict with sin. His bosom foe 
is his most unyielding enemy; 

His warfare is within, there unfatigued 
His fervent spirit labors. 

This it is which makes his other trials heavy, which 
makes his power of sustaining them weak, which renders 
his conquest over them slow and inconclusive; which too 
often solicits him to oppose interest to duty, indolence to 
resistance, and self-indulgence to victory. 

This world is the stage on which worldly men more ex- 
clusively act, and the things of the world, and the applause 
of the world, are the rewards which they propose to them- 
selves. These they often attain — with these they are sat- 
isfied. They aim at no higher end, and of their aim they 
are not disappointed. But let not the Christian repine at 
the success of those whose motives he rejects, whose prac- 
tices he dares not adopt, whose ends he deprecates. If he 
feel any disposition to murmur when he sees the irreligious 
in great prosperity, let him ask himself if he would tread 
their path to attain their end — if he would do their work to 
obtain their wages.'' He knows he would not. Let him 
then cheerfully leave them to scramble for the prizes, and 
jostle for the places, which the world temptingly holds out, 
but which he will not purchase at the world's price. 



208 ON THE SUFFERINGS OF GOOD MEN. 

Consult the page of history, and observe, not only if the 
best men have been the most successful, but even if they 
have not often eminently failed in great enterprises, under- 
taken perhaps on the purest principles; while unworthy 
instruments have been often employed, not only to produce 
dangerous revolutions, but to bring about events ultimately 
tending to the public benefit; enterprises in which good 
men feared to engage, which perhaps they were not com- 
petent to effect, or in effecting which they might have 
wounded their conscience and endangered their souls. 

Good causes are not always conducted by good men. A 
good cause may be connected with something that is not 
good, with party for instance. Party oflen does that for 
virtue, which virtue is not able to do for herself; and thus 
the right cause is promoted and effected by some subordin- 
ate, even by some wrong motive. A worldly man, connect- 
ing himself with a religious cause, gives it that importance 
in the eyes of the world, which neither its own rectitude, nor 
that of its rehgious supporters, had been able to give it. 
Nay the very piety of its advocates — for worldly men 
always connect piety with imprudence — had brought the 
wisdom, or at least the expediency of the cause into suspi- 
cion, and it is at last carried by a means foreign to itself 
The character of the cause must be lowered, we had almost 
said, it must in a certain degree be deteriorated, to suit 
the general taste, even to obtain the approbation of that 
multitude for whose benefit it is intended. 

How long, as we have had occasion to observe in 
another connection, had the world groaned under the most 
tremendous engine which superstition and despotism, in 
dreadful confederation, ever contrived to force the con- 
sciences, and torture the bodies of men; where racks 
were used for persuasion, and flames for arguments! The 
best of men for ages have been mourning under this dread 
tribunal, without being competent to effect its overthrow; 
the worst of men has been able to accomplish it with a 
word. — It is a humiliating lesson for good men, when they 
thus see how entirely instrumentality may be separated 
from personal virtue. 

We still fall into the error of which the prophet so long 
ago complained, "we call the proud happy," and the 
wicked fortunate, and our hearts are too apt to rise at their 
successes. We pretend indeed that they rise with indig- 
nation; but is it not to be feared that with this indignation 
is mixed a little envy, a little rebellion against God ? We 



ON THE SUFFERINGS OF GOOD MEN. 209 

murmur, though we know that when the mstrument has 
finished his work, the divine employer throws him by, cuts 
him off, lets him perish. 

But you enyy him in the midst of that work, to accom- 
plish which he has sacrificed every principle of justice, 
truth, and mercy. Is this a man to be envied? Is this a 
prosperity to be grudged? Would you incur the penalties 
of that happiness at which you are not ashamed to murmur ? 

But is it happiness to commit sin, to be abhorred by good 
men, to oflfend God, to ruin his own soul? Do you really 
consider a temporary success a recompense for deeds 
which will insure eternal wo to the perpetrator? Is the 
successful bad man happy? Of what materials then is hap- 
piness made up? Is it composed of a disturbed mind and 
an -unquiet conscience? Are doubt and difficulty, are 
terror and apprehension, are distrust and suspicion, felici- 
ties for which a Christian would renounce his peace, would 
displease his Maker, would risk his soul? Think of the 
hidden vulture that feeds on the vitals of successful wicked- 
ness, and your repinings, your envy, if you are so unhappy 
as to feel envy, will cease. Your indignation will be con- 
verted into compassion, your execrations into prayer. 

But if he feel neither the scourge of conscience nor the 
sting of remorse, pity him the more. Pity him for the very 
wani of that addition to his unhappiness: for if he added 
to his miseries that of anticipating his punishment, he 
might be led by repentance to avoid it. Can you reckon 
the' blinding his eyes and the hardening his heart, any part 
of his happiness? This opinion, however, you practically 
adopt, whenever you grudge the prosperity of the wicked 
God, by delaying the punishment of bad men, for which 
we are so impatient, may have designs of mercy of which 
we know nothing — mercy perhaps to them, or if not to 
them, yet mercy to those who are suffering by them, and 
whom he intends by these bad instruments, to punish, and, 
by punishing, eventually to save. 

' There is another sentiment vvhich prosperous wickedness 
excites in certain minds, that is almost more preposterous 
than envy itself, and that is respect; but this feeling is 
never raised unless both the wickedness and the prosperity 
be on a grand scale. 

This sentiment also is founded in secret impiety, in the 
belief either that God does not govern human afiairs, or 
that the motives of actions are not regarded by him, or 
that prosperity is a certain proof of his favor, or that where 



210 ON THE SUFFERINGS OF GOOD MEN. 

there is success there must be worth. These flatterers, 
however, forsake the prosperous with their good fortune; 
their applause is withheld with the success which attracted 
it. As they were governed by events in their admiration, 
so events lead them to withdraw it. 

But in this admiration there is a bad taste as well as a 
bad principle. If ever wickedness pretends to excite any 
idea of sublimity, it must be, not in its elevation but its 
fall. If ever Caius Marius raises any such sentiment, it is 
not when he carried the world before him, it is not in his 
seditious and bloody triumphs at Rome, but it is when in 
poverty and exile his intrepid look caused the dagger to 
drop from the hand of the executioner; — it is, when sitting 
among the venerable ruins of Carthage he enjoyed a deso- 
lation so congenial to his own. Dionysius, in the plenitude 
of arbitrary power, raises our unmixed abhorrence. We 
detest the oppressor of the people while he continued to 
trample on them; we execrate the monster who was not 
ashamed to sell Plato as a slave. If ever we feel any 
thing like interest on his subject, it is not with the tyrant 
of Syracuse but with the school-master of Corinth. 

But though God may be patient with triumphant wicked- 
ness, he does not wink or connive at it. Between being 
permitted and supported, between being employed and 
approved, the distance is wider than we are ready to ac- 
knowledge. Perhaps "the iniquity of the Amorites is not 
yet full." God has always the means of punishment as 
well as of pardon in his own hands. But to punish just at 
the moment when we would hurl the bolt, might break in 
on a scheme of Providence of wide extent and indefinite 
consequences. " They have drunk their hemlock," says 
a fine writer, " but the poison does not yet work." Per- 
haps the convulsion may be the more terrible for the delay. 
Let us not be impatient to accomplish a sentence which 
Infinite Justice sees right to defer — It is always time 
enough to enter into hell. Let us think more of restrain- 
ing our own vindictive tempers, than of precipitating their 
destruction. They may yet repent of the crimes they are 
perpetrating. God may still by some scheme, intricate, 
and unintelligible to us, pardon the sin which we think ex- 
ceeds the limits even of his mercy. 

But we contrive to make revenge itself look like religion. 
We call down thunder on many a head under pretence 
that those on whom we invoke it are God's enemies, when 
perhaps we invoke it because they are ours. 



OS THE SUFFERINGS OF GOOD MEN. 2] 1 

But though they should go on with a full tide of pros- 
perity to the end, will it not cure our impatience that that 
end must come? will it not satisfy us that they must die, 
that they must come to judgment? Which is to be envied, 
the Christian who dies and his brief sorrows have a period, 
or he who closes a prosperous life and enters on a misera- 
ble eternity? The one has nothing to fear if the promises 
of the Gospel be true, the other nothing to hope if they be 
not false. The word of God must be a lie, heaven a fable, 
hell an invention, before the impenitent sinner can be safe. 
Is that man to be envied whose security depends on their 
falsehood ? Is the other to be pitied whose hope is founded 
on their reality. Can that state be happiness, which 
results from believing that there is no God, no future reck- 
oning? Can that state be misery which consists in knowing 
that there is both? 

In estimating the comparative happiness of good and 
bad men, we should ever bear in mind that of all the 
calamities which can be inflicted or suffered, sin is the 
greatest; and of all punishments, insensibility to sin is the 
heaviest which the wrath of God inflicts in this world for 
the commission of it. God so far then from approving a 
wicked man, because he suffers him to go on triumphantly, 
seems rather, by allowing him to continue his smooth and 
prosperous course, to have some awful destiny in store for 
him, which will not perhaps be revealed till his repentance 
is too late; then his knowledge of God's displeasure, and 
the dreadful consequences of that displeasure, may be re- 
vealed together, may be revealed when there is no room 
for mercy. 

But without looking to futurity — consulting only the 
present condition of suffering virtue; if we put the inward 
consolation derived from communion with God, the hum- 
ble confidence of prayer, the devout trust in the divine 
protection — supports commonly reserved for the afflicted 
Christian, and eminently bestowed in his greatest exigence; 
if we place these feelings in the opposite scale with all 
that unjust power ever bestowed, or guilty wealth posses- 
sed; we shall have no hestitation in deciding on which 
side even present happiness lies. 

With a mind thus fixed, with a faith thus firm, one great 
object so absorbs the Christian, that his peace is not toss- 
ed about with the things which discompose ordinary men. 
" My fortune," may he say, " it is true, is shattered; but 
as I made not ' fine gold my confidence ' while I posses- 



212 ON THE SUFFERINGS OF GOOD MEN. 

sed it, in losing it I have not lost myself. I leaned not 
on power, for I knew its instability. Had prosperity been 
my dependence, my support being removed, I must fall." 

In the case of the afflicted Christian you lament perhaps 
with the wife of the persecuted hero, that he suffers being 
innocent. But would it extract the sting from suffering, 
were guilt added to it? Out of two worlds to have all sorrow 
in this and no hope in the next would be indeed intolerable. 
Would you have him purchase a reprieve from suffering, 
by sinful compliances ? Think how ease would be destroyed 
by the price paid for it ! for how short a time he would en 
joy it, even if it were not bought at the expense of his soul! 

It would be preposterous to say that suffering is the re- 
compense of virtue, and yet it may with truth be asserted 
that the capacity for enjoying the reward of virtue is en- 
larged by suffering ; and thus it becomes not only the in- 
strument of promoting virtue, but the instrument of reward- 
ing it. Besides, God chooses for the confirmation of our 
faith, as well as for the consummation of his gracious plans, 
to reserve in his own hand this most striking proof of a 
future retribution. To suppose that he cannot ultimately 
recompense his virtuous, afflicted children, is to believe him 
less powerful than an earthly father — to suppose that he 
ivill not, is to believe him less merciful. 

Great trials are oftener proofs of favor than of displeasure. 
An inferior officer will suffice for inferior expeditions, but 
the sovereign selects the ablest general for the most dif- 
ficult service. And not only does the king evidence his 
opinion by the selection, but the soldier proves his attach- 
ment by rejoicing in the preference. His having gained 
one victory is no reason for his being set aside. Conquest 
v/hich qualifies him for new attacks, suggests a reason for 
his being again employed. 

The sufferings of good men by no means contradict the 
promise that " godliness has the promise of the life that 
now is," nor that promise " that the meek shall inherit the 
earth." They possess it by the spirit in which they enjoy 
its blessings, by the spirit with which they resign them. 

The befief too that trials will facilitate salvation is another 
source of consolation. Sufferings also abate the dread of 
death by cheapening the price of life. The affections even 
of the real Christian are too much drawn downwards. His 
heart too fondly cleaves to the dust, though he knows that 
trouble springs out of it. How would it be, if he invaria- 
bly possessed present enjoyments, and if a long vista of 



ON THE SUFFERINGS OF GOOD MEN. 213 

delights lay always open before him? He has a farther 
conifort in his ov/n honest consciousness ; a bright convic- 
tion that his Christian feeling under trials is a cheering 
evidence that his piety is sincere. The gold has been 
melted down, and its purity is ascertained. 

Among his other advantages, the afflicted Christian has 
that of being able to apply to the mercy of God, not as 
a new and untried, and therefore an uncertain resource. 
He does not come as an alien before a strange master, but 
as a child into the well known presence of a tender father. 
He did not put off prayer till this pressing exigence. He 
did not make his God a sort of dernier resort to be had re- 
course to only in the great waterfloods. He had long and 
diligently sought him in the calm; he had adhered to him, 
if the phrase may be allowed, before he was driven to it. 
He had sought God's favor while he enjoyed the favor 
of the world. He did not wait for the day of evil to seek 
the supreme good. He did not defer his meditations on 
heavenly things to the disconsolate hour when earth has 
nothing for him. He can cheerfully associate religion with 
those former days of felicity, when with every thing before 
him out of which to choose, he chose God. He not only 
feels the support derived from his present prayers, but the 
benefit of all those which he offered up in the day of joy 
and gladness. He will especially derive comfort from the 
supplications he had made for the anticipated though un- 
known trial of the present hour, and which, in such a 
world of vicissitudes, it was reasonable to expect. 

Let us confess then, that in all the trying circumstances 
of this changeful scene, there is something infinitely sooth- 
ing to the feelings of a Christian, something inexpressibly 
tranquillizing to his mind, to know that he has nothing to do 
with events but to submit to them; that he has nothing to do 
with the revolutions of life but to acquiesce in them, as the 
dispensations of eternal wisdom; that he has not to take the 
management out of the hands of Providence, but submis- 
sively to follow the divine leading; that he has not to con- 
trive for to-morrow, but to acquiesce to-day; not to condi- 
tion about events yet to come, but to meet those which are 
present with cheerful resignation. Let him be thankful 
that as he could not by foreseeing prevent them, so he was 
not permitted to foresee them; thankful for ignorance where 
knowledge would only prolong without preventing suffbr- 
ing; thankful for that grace which has promised that our 
strength shall be proportioned to our day; thankful that a? 



214 ON THE SUFFERINGS OF GOOD MEN. 

he is not responsible for trials which he has not brought on 
himself, so by the goodness of God these trials may be im- 
proved to the noblest purposes. The quiet acquiescence 
of the heart, the annihilation of the will under actual cir- 
cumstances, be the trial great or small, is more acceptable 
to God, more indicative of true piety, than the strongest 
general resolutions of firm acting and deep submission under 
the most trying unborn events. In the remote case it is 
the imagination which submits: in the actual case it is the 
will. 

We are too ready to imagine that there is no other way 
of serving God but by active exertions; exertions which 
are often made because they indulge our natural taste, and 
gratify our own inclinations. But it is an error to imagine 
that God by putting us into any supposable situation, puts 
it out of our power to glorify him; that he can place us un- 
der any circumstances which may not be turned to some 
account, either for ourselves or others. Joseph in his 
prison, under the strongest disqualifications, loss of liberty 
and a blasted reputation, made way for both his own high 
advancement and for the deliverance of Israel. Daniel in 
his dungeon, not only the destined prey, but in the very 
jaws of furious beasts, converted the king of Babylon and 
brought him to the knowledge of the true God. Could 
prosperity have effected the former? Would not prosper- 
ity have prevented the latter? 

But to descend to more familiar instances — It is among 
the ordinary, though most mysterious dispensations of Prov- 
idence, that many of his appointed servants, who are not 
only eminently fitted, but also most zealously disposed, to 
glorify their Redeemer by instructing and reforming their 
fellow creatures, are yet disqualified by disease, and set 
aside from that public duty of which the necessity is so ob- 
vious, and of which the fruits were so remarkable, whilst 
many others possess uninterrupted health and strength, for 
the exercise of those functions for which they are little 
gifted and less disposed. 

But God's ways are not as our ways. He is not account- 
able to his creatures. The caviller would know why it is 
right. The suffering Christian believes and feels it to be 
right. He humbly acknowledges the necessity of the 
affliction which his friends are lamenting; he feels the mer- 
cy of the measure which others are suspecting of injustice. 
With deep humility he is persuaded that if the affliction is 
not yet withdrawn, it is because it has not yet accomplish- 



Ox\ THE SUFFERINGS OF GOOD MEN. 215 

ed the purpose for which it was sent. The privation is 
probably intended both for the individual interests of the 
sufferer, and for the reproof of those who have neglected 
to profit by his labors. Perhaps God more especially 
thus draws still nearer to himself, him who had drawn so 
many others. 

But to take a more particular view of the case, we are 
too ready to consider sufl'ering as an indication of God's 
displeasure, not so much against sin in general, as against 
the individual sufferer. Were this the case, then would 
those saints and martyrs who have pined in exile, and 
groaned in dungeons, and expired on scaffolds, have been 
the objects of God's peculiar wrath instead of his special 
favor. But the truth is, some little tincture of latent in- 
fidelity mixes itself in almost all our reasonings on these 
topics. We do not constantly take into the account a fu- 
ture state. We want God, if I may hazard the expression, 
to clear himself as he goes. We cannot give him such 
long credit as the period of human life. He must every 
moment be vindicating his character against every skepti- 
cal cavil; he must unravel his plans to every shallow critic, 
he must anticipate the knowledge of his design before its 
operations are completed. If we may adopt a phrase in 
use among the vulgar, we will trust him no farther than 
we can seli him. Though he has said, "judge nothing 
before the time," we judge instantly, of course rashly, and 
in general falsely. Were the brevity of earthly prosperity 
and suffering, the certainty of retributive justice, and the 
eternity of future blessedness perpetually kept in view, we 
should have more patience with God. 

Even in judging fictitious compositions, we are more 
just. During the perusal of a tragedy, or any work of in- 
vention, though we feel for the distresses of the personages, 
yet we do not form an ultimate judgment of the propriety 
or injustice of their sufferings. We wait for the catastro- 
phe. We give the poet credit either that he will extricate 
them from their distresses, or eventually explain the justice 
of them. We do not condemn him at the end of every 
scene for the trials of that scene, which the sufferers do 
not appear to have deserved; for the sufferings which do 
not always seem to have arisen from their own misconduct. 
We behold the trials of the virtuous with sympathy, and 
the successes of the wicked with indignation; but we do 
not pass our final sentence till the poet has passed his. 
We reserve our decisive judgment till Iho last scene closes, 



216 OxN THE SUFFERINGS OF GOOD MEN. 

till the curtain drops. Shall we not treat the schemes of 
infinite wisdom with as much respect as the plot of a drama. 

But to borrow our illustration from realities. — In a court 
of justice the by-standers do not give their sentence in the 
midst of a trial. We wait patiently till all the evidence is 
collected, and circumstantially detailed and finally summed 
up. And — to pursue the allusion — imperfect as human 
decisions may possibly be, fallible as we must allow the 
most deliberate and honest verdict must prove, we com- 
monly applaud the justice of the jury and the equity of the 
judge. The felon they condemn, we rarely acquit; where 
they remit judgment, we rarely denounce it. — It is only 
INFINITE WISDOM ou wliosc purposcs WO caiiuot rely; it is 
only INFINITE MEP..CY wliosc operations we cannot trust. It 
is only " the Judge of all the earth " who cannot do right. 
We reverse the order of God by summoning Him to our 
bar, at whose awful bar we shall soon be judged. 

But to return to our more immediate point — the appa- 
rently unfair distribution of prosperity between good and 
bad men. As their case is opposite in every thing — the 
one is constantly deriving his happiness from that which is 
the source of the other's misery, a sense of the divine om- 
niscience. The eye of God is " a pillar of light " to the 
one, " and a cloud and darkness" to the other. It is no 
less a terror to him who dreads His justice than a joy to 
him who derives all his support from the awful thought 
Tiiou God seest! 

But as we have already observed, can we want a broader 
line of discrimination between them, than their actual 
condition here, independently of the different portions re- 
served for them hereafter? Is it not distinction enough 
that the one though sad is safe; that the other, though con- 
fident is insecure ? Is not the one as far from rest as he is 
from virtue, as far from the enjoyment of quiet as from the 
hope of heaven? as far from peace as he is from God? Is 
it nothing that every day brings the Christian nearer to his 
crown, and that the sinner is every day working his way 
nearer to his ruin? The hour of death, which the one 
dreads as something worse than extinction, is to the other 
the hour of his nativity, the birth-day of immortality. At 
the height of his sufferings, the good man knows that they 
will soon terminate. In the zenith of his success the sin- 
ner has a similar assurance. But how different is the 
result of the same conviction ! An invincible faith sustains 
Ihe one, in the severest calamities, while an inextinguish- 



TEMPER AND CONDUCT OF THE CHRlSTIAxV, &C. 217 

able dread gives the lie to the proudest triumphs of the 
other. 

He, then, after all, is the only happy man, not whom 
worldly prosperity renders apparently happy, but whom no 
change of worldly circumstances can make essentially 
miserable ; whose peace depends not on external events, 
but on an internal support; not on that success which is 
common to all, but on that hope which is the pecuhar pri- 
vilege, on that promise which is the sole prerogative of 
the Christian. 



CHAP. XXI. 

The Temper and Conduct of the Christian in Sickness and 
in Death. 

The Pagan philosophers have given many admirable 
precepts both for resigning blessings and for sustaining 
misfortunes; but wanting the motives and sanctions of 
Christianity, though they excite much intellectual admira- 
tion, they produce little practical effect. The stars which 
glittered in their moral night, though bright, imparted no 
warmth. Their most beautiful dissertations on death had 
no charm to extract its citmg. We receive no support from 
their most elaborate treatises on immortality, for want of 
him who "brought life and immortality to light." Their 
consolatory discussions could not strip the grave of its 
terrors, for to them it was not " swallowed up in victory." 
To conceive of the soul as an immortal principle, without 
proposing a scheme for the pardon of its sins, was but cold 
consolation. Their future state was but a happy guess; 
their heaven but a fortunate conjecture. 

When we peruse their finest compositions, we admire the 
manner in which the medicine is administered, but we do 
not find it effectual for the cure, nor even for the mitigation 
of our disease. The beauty of the sentiment we applaud, 
but our heart continues to ache. There is no healing balm 
in their elegant prescription. These four little words " thy 
WILL BE DONE," Contain a charm of more powerful efhcacy 
than all the discipline of the stoic school. They cut up a 
long train of clear but cold reasoning, and supersede whole 
volumes of argument on Fate and Necessity. 

10 



!218 TEMPER AND CONDUCT OF THE CHRISTIAN 

What sufferer ever derived any ease from the subtle dis- 
tinction of the hair-spUtting casuist, who allowed ' ' that 
pain was very troublesome, but resolved never to acknow- 
ledge it to be an evil? " There is an equivocation in his 
manner of stating the proposition. He does not directly 
say that pain is not an evil, but by a sophistical turn pro- 
fesses that philosophy will never confess it to be an evil. 
But what consolation does the sufferer draw from the 
quibbling nicety? "What difference is there," as Arch- 
bishop Tillotson well inquires, " betv/een things being 
troublesome and being evils, when all the evil of an afflic- 
tion lies in the trouble it creates to us? " 

Christianity knows none of these fanciful distinctions. 
She never pretends to insist that pain is not an evil, but she 
does more; she converts it into a good. Christianity there- 
fore teaches a fortitude as much more noble than philosophy, 
as meeting pain with resignation to the hand that inflicts it, 
is more heroic than denying it to be an evil. 

To submit on the mere human ground that there is no 
alternative, is not resignation but hopelessness. To bear 
affliction solely because impatience will not remove it, is 
but an inferior, though a just reason for bearing it. It 
savors rather of despair than submission when not sanc- 
tioned by a higher principle. — " It is the Lord, let him do 
what seemeth him good," is at once a motive of more pow- 
erful obligation than all the doo.uments which philosophy 
ever suggested; a firmer ground of support than all the 
energies that natural fortitude ever supplied. 

Under any visitation, sickness for instance, God permits 
us to think the affliction " not joyous but grievous." But 
though he allows us to feel, we must not allow ourselves to 
repine. There is again a sort of heroism in bearing up 
against affliction, which some adopt on the ground that it 
raises their character, and confers dignity on their suffering. 
This philosophic firmness is far from being the temper which 
Christianity inculcates. 

When we are compelled by the hand of God to endure 
sufferings, or driven by a conviction of the vanity of the 
world to renounce its enjoyments, we must not endure the 
one on the low principle of its being inevitable, nor, in 
flying fi'om the other, must we retire to the contemplation 
of our own virtues. We must not, with a sullen intrepidity, 
collect ourselves into a centre of our own; into a cold apathy 
to all without, and a proud approbation of all within. We 
must not contract our scattered faults into a sort of dignified 



IN SICKNESS AND IN DEATH. 219 

selfishness; nor concentrate our feelings into a proud mag- 
nanimity; we must not adopt an independent rectitude. A 
gloomy stoicism is not Christian heroism. A melancholy 
non-resistance is not Christian resignation. 

Nor must we indemnify ourselves for our outward self- 
control by secret murmurings. We may be admired for 
our resolution in this instance, as for our generosity and 
disinterestedness in other instances; but we deserve little 
commendation for whatever we give up, if we do not give 
up our own inclination. It is inward repining that we must 
endeavor to repress; it is the discontent of the heart, the 
unexpressed but not unfelt murmur, against which we must 
pray for grace, and struggle for resistance. We must not 
smother our discontents before others, and feed on them in 
private. It is the hidden rebellion of the will we must 
subdue, if we would submit as Christians. Nor must we 
justify our impatience by saying, that if our affliction did 
not disqualify us from being useful to our families, and ac- 
tive in the service of God, we could more cheerfully bear 
it. Let us rather be assured that it does not disqualify us 
for that duty which we most need, and to which God calls 
us by the very disqualification. 

A constant posture of defence against the attacks of our 
great spiritual enemy, is a better security than an incidental 
blow, or even an occasional victory. It is also a better 
preparation for all the occurrences of life. It is not some 
signal act of mortification, but an habitual state of disci- 
pline which will prepare us for great trials. A soul ever 
on the watch, fervent in prayer, diligent in self-inspection, 
frequent in meditation, fortified against the vanities of time 
by repeated views of eternity — all the avenues to such a 
heart will be in a good measure shut against temptation, 
barred in a great degree against the tempter. " Strong in 
the Lord and in the power of his might," it will be enabled to 
resist the one, to expel the other. To a mind so prepared, 
the thoughts of sickness will not be new, for he knows it is 
the " condition of the battle: " The prospect of death will 
not be surprising, for he knows it is its termination. 

The period is now come when wc must summon all the 
fortitude of the rational being, all the resignation of tho 
Christian. The principles we have been learning must now 
be made practical. — Tho speculations wc have admired \vo 
must now realize. All that we have been studying was in 
order to furnish materia^.s for this grand oxiocnce. AH the 
strength we have been collecting must now be brought into 



•220 TEMPER AND CONDUCT OF THE CHRISTIAN 

action. We must now draw to a point all the scattered ar- 
guments, all the several motives, all the individual supports, 
all the cheering promises of religion. We must exemplify 
all the rules we have given to others; we must embody all 
the resolutions we have formed for ourselves; we must re- 
duce our precepts to experience; we must pass from dis- 
courses on submission to its exercise ; from dissertations on 
suffering to sustaining it. We must heroically call up the 
determinations of our better days. We must recollect what 
we have said of the supports of faith and hope when our 
strength was in full vigor, when our heart was at ease, and 
our mind undisturbed. Let us collect all that remains to 
us of mental strength. Let us implore the aid of holy hope 
and fervent faith, to show that religion is not a beautiful 
theory but a soul-sustaining truth. 

Endeavor without harassing scrutiny or distressing doubt, 
to act on the principles which your sounder judgment for- 
merly admitted. The strongest faith is wanted in the hard- 
est trials. Under those trials, to the confirmed Christian, 
the highest degree of grace is commonly imparted. Impair 
not that faith on which you rested when your mind was 
strong, by suspecting its validity now it is weak. That 
which had your full assent in perfect health, which was 
then firmly rooted in your spirit, and grounded in your un- 
derstanding, must not be unfixed by the doubts of an en- 
feebled reason and the scruples of an impaired judgment. 
You may not now be able to determine on the reasonable- 
ness of propositions, but you may derive strong consolation 
from conclusions which were once fully established in your 
mind. • 

The reflecting Christian will consider the natural evil of 
sickness as the consequence and punishment of moral evil. 
He will mourn, not only that he suffers pain, but because 
that pain is the effect of sin. If man had not sinned he 
would not have suffered. The heaviest aggravation of his 
pain is to know that he has deserved it. But it is a coun- 
terbalance to this trial to know that our merciful Father 
has no pleasure in the sufferings of his children, that he 
chastens them in love, that he never inflicts a stroke which 
he could safely spare; that he inflicts it to purify as well as 
to punish, to caution as well as to cure, to improve as well 
as to chastise. 

What a support in the dreary season of sickness is it to 
reflect, that the Captain of our salvation was made perfect 
through sufferings; that if we suffer with him we shall also 



IN SICKNESS AND IN DEATH. 221 

reign with him, which implies also the reverse, that if we 
do not suffer with him, we shall not reign with him ; that 
is, if we suffer merely because we cannot help it, without 
reference to him, without suffering for his sake and in his 
spirit. If it be not sanctified suffering it will avail but little. 
We shall not be paid for having suffered, as in the creed 
of too many, but our meetness for the kingdom of glory will 
be increased if we suffer according to his will and after his 
example. 

He who is brought to serious reflection by the salutary 
affliction of a sick bed, will look back with astonishment on 
his former false estimate of worldly things. Riches! Beau- 
ty! Pleasure! Genius! Fame! — what are they in the eyes 
of the sick and dying? 

Riches! These are so far from affording him a moment's 
ease, that it will be well if no former misapplication of them 
aggravate his present pains. He feels as if he only wished 
to live that he might henceforth dedicate them to the pur- 
poses for which they were given. 

Beauty! What is beauty, he cries, as he considers his 
own sunk eyes, hollow cheeks, and pallid countenance. 
He acknowledges with the Psalmist, that the consuming 
of beauty is '^ the rebuke with which the Almighty corrects 
man for sin." 

Genius! What is it? Without religion, genius is only 
a lamp on the gate of a palace. It may serve to cast a 
gleam of light on those without, while the inhabitant sits 
in darkness. 

Pleasure! That has not left a trace behind it. "It 
died in the birth, and is not therefore worthy to come into 
this bill of mortality."* 

Fame ! Of this his very soul acknowledges the emptiness. 
He is astonished how he could ever be so infatuated as to 
run afler a sound, to court a breath, to pursue a shadow, 
to embrace a cloud. Augustus, asking his friends as they 
surrounded his dying bed, if he had acted his part well, on 
their answering in the affirmative, cried plaudite. But the 
acclamations of the whole universe would rather mock than 
soothe the dying Christian if unsanctioned by the hope of 
the divine approbation. He now rates at its just value that 
fame which was so oflen eclipsed by envy, and which will 
be so soon forgotten in death. He has no ambition left 
but for heaven, where there will be neither envy, death, 
nor forgetfulness. 

* BishoD Hall. 



222 TEMPER AND CONDUCT OF THE CHRISTIAN 

When capable of reflection, the sick Christian wiii r*.~ 
volve all the sins and errors of his past life; he will humble 
himself for them as sincerely as if he had never repented 
of them before ; and implore the divine forgiveness as fer- 
vently as if he did not believe they were long since forgiv- 
en. The remembrance of his former offences will grieve 
him, but the humble hope that they are pardoned will fill 
him " with joy unspeakable and full of glory." 

Even in this state of helplessness he may improve his 
self-acquaintance. He may detect new deficiences in his 
character, fresh imperfections in his virtues. Omissions 
will now strike him with the force of actual sins. Resig- 
nation, which he fancied was so easy when only the suffer- 
ings of others required it, he now finds to be difficult when 
called on to practice it himself He has sometimes won- 
dered at their impatience, he is now humbled at his own. 
He will not only try to bear patiently the pains he actually 
suffers, but will recollect gratefully those from which he 
has been delivered, and which he may have formerly found 
less supportable than his present sufferings. 

In the extremity of pain he feels there is no consolation 
but in humble acquiescence in the divine will. It may be 
that he can pray but little, but that little will be fervent. 
He can articulate perhaps not at all, but his prayer is ad- 
dressed to one who sees the heart, who can interpret its 
language, who requires not words but affections. A pang 
endured without a murmur, or only such an involuntary 
groan as nature extorts, and faith regrets, is itself a prayer. 

If surrounded with all the accommodations of affluence, 
let him compare his own situation with that of thousands, 
who probably with greater merit, and under severer trials, 
have not one of his alleviations. When invited to the dis- 
tasteful remedy, let him reflect how many perishing fellow 
creatures may be pining for that remedy, to whom it might 
be restorative, or who, fancying that it might be so, suffer 
additional distress from their inability to procure it. 

In the intervals of severer pain he will turn his few ad- 
vantages to the best account. He will make the most of 
every short respite. He will patiently bear with little dis- 
appointments, little delays, with the awkwardness or acci- 
dental neglect of his attendants, and, thankful for general 
kindness, he will accept good-will instead of perfection. 
The sufl?ering Christian will be grateful for small reliefs, 
little alleviations, short snatches of rest. To him abated 
pain will be positive pleasure. The freer use of limbs which 



[N SICKNESS AND IN DEATH. 



003 



had nearly lost their activity, will be enjoyments. Let not 
the reader who is rioting 

In all the madness of superfluous health, 

think lightly of these trivial comforts Let him not despise 
them as not worthy of gratitude, or as not capable of ex- 
citing it. He may one day, and that no distant day, be 
brought to the same state of debility and pain. May he 
experience the mercies he now derides, and may he feel 
higher comforts on safe grounds! 

The sufferer has perhaps often regretted that one of the 
worst effects of sickness is the selfishness it too naturally 
induces. The temptation to this he will resist, by not be- 
ing exacting and unreasonable in his requisitions. Through 
his tenderness to the feelings of others, he will be careful 
not to add to their distress by any appearance of discon- 
tent. 

What a lesson against selfishness have we in the conduct 
of our dying Redeemer! — It was while bearing his cross 
to the place of execution, that he said to the sorrowing mul- 
titude, "weep not for me, but for yourselves and for your 
children." — It was while enduring the agonies of cruci- 
fixion that he endeavored to mitigate the sorrows of his 
mother and of his friend, by tenderly committing them to 
each other's care.— It was while sustaining the pangs of 
dissolution, that he gave the immediate promise of heaven 
to the expiring criminal. 

The Christian will review, if able, not only the sins, but 
the mercies, of his past life. If previously accustomed to 
unbroken health, he will bless God for the long period in 
which he has enjoyed it. If continued infirmity has been 
his portion, he will feel grateful that he has had such a long 
and gradual weaning from the world. From either state 
he will extract consolation. If pain be new, what a mercy 
to have hitherto escaped it! If habitual, we bear more 
easily what we have borne long. 

He will review his temporal blessings and deliverances ; 
his domestic comforts, his Christian friendships. Among 
his mercies his now " purged eyes" will reckon his diffi- 
culties, his sorrows and trials. A new and heavenly light 
will be thrown on that passage, '' it is good for me that 1 
have been afflicted." It seems to him as if hitherto, he had 
only heard it with the hearing of his ear, but now his " eye 
seeth it." If he be a real Christian, and has had enemies, 
ho will always have prayed for them, but now he will be 
thankful for them. He will the more earnestly implore mer 



224 TEMPER AND CONDUCT OF THE CHRISTIAN 

c.y for them as instruments which have helped to fit him 
for his present state. He will look up with holy gratitude 
to the great Physician, who by a divine chemistry in mak- 
ing up events, has made that one unpalatable ingredient, 
at the bitterness of which he once revolted, the very means 
by which all other things have worked together for good; 
had they worked separately they would not have worked 
efficaciously. 

Under the most severe visitation, let us compare, if the 
capacity of comparing be allowed us, our own sufferings 
with the cup which our Redeemer drank for our sakes; 
drank to avert the divine displeasure from us. Let us pur- 
sue the comparative view of our condition with that of the 
Son of God. He was deserted in his most trying hour; de- 
serted probably by those whose limbs, sight, life, he had 
restored, whose souls he had come to save. We are sur- 
rounded by unwearied friends; every pain is mitigated by 
sympathy, every want not only relieved but prevented; the 
" asking eye" explored; the inarticulate sound understood; 
the ill-expressed wish anticipated; the but suspected want 
supplied. When our souls are "exceeding sorrowful," 
our friends participate our sorrow; when desired " to watch" 
with us, they watch not " one hour" but many, not falling 
asleep, but both flesh and spirit ready and willing; not for- 
saking us in our " agony" but sympathizing where they 
cannot relieve. 

Besides this, we must acknowledge with the penitent 
malefactor, " we indeed suffer justly, but this man hath done 
nothing amiss." We suffer for our offences the inevitable 
penalty of our fallen nature. He bore our sins and those 
of the whole human race. Hence the heart-rending inter- 
rogation, " is it nothing to you all ye that pass by ? Behold 
and see if there be any sorrow, like unto my sorrow, which 
is done unto me, wherewith the Lord hath afflicted me in 
the day of his fierce anger." 

How cheering in this forlorn state to reflect that he not 
only suffered for us then, but is sympathizing with us now; 
that " in all our afflictions he is afflicted." The tenderness 
of the sympathy seems to add a value to the sacrifice, while 
the vastness of the sacrifice endears the sympathy by en- 
nobling it. 

If the intellectual powers be mercifully preserved, how 
many virtues may now be brought into exercise which had 
either lain dormant or been considered as of inferior worth 
in the prosperous day of activity. The Christian tempei 



IN SICKNESS AND IN DEATH. 225 

indeed seems to be that part of religion which is more pe- 
cuUarly to be exercised on a sick bed. The passive virtues, 
the least brilliant, but the most difficult, are then particular- 
ly called into action. To suffer the whole will of God on 
the tedious bed of languishing, is more trying than to per- 
form the most shining exploit on the theatre of the world. 
The hero in the field of battle has the love of fame as well 
as patriotism to support him. He knows that the witnesses 
of his valor will be the heralds of his renown. The martyr 
at the stake is divinely strengthened. Extraordinary grace 
is imparted for extraordinary trials. His pangs are exquisite 
but they are short. The crown is in sight, it is almost in 
possession. By faith " he sees the heavens opened. He 
sees the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand 
of God." But to be strong in faith, and patient in hope, in 
a long and lingering sickness, is an example of more gene- 
ral use and ordinary application, than even the sublime 
heroism of the martyr. The sickness is brought home to 
our feelings, we see it with our eyes, we apply it to our 
hearts. Of the martyr we read, indeed, with astonishment: 
our faith is strengthened, and our admiration kindled; but 
we read it without that special approbation, without that pe- 
culiar reference to our own circumstances, which we feel 
in cases that are likely to apply to ourselves. With the 
dying friend we have not only a feeling of pious tenderness, 
but there is also a community of interests. The certain 
conviction that his case must soon be our own, makes it 
our own now. Self mixes with the social feeling, and the 
Christian death we are contemplating we do not so much ad 
mire as a prodigy, as propose for a model. To the martyr's 
stake we feel that we are not likely to be brought. To the 
dying bed we must inevitably come. 

Accommodating his state of mind to the nature of his dis- 
ease, the dying Christian will derive consolation in any case, 
either from thinking how forcibly a sudden sickness breaks 
the chain which binds him to the world, or how gently a 
gradual decay unties it. He will feel and acknowledge the 
necessity of all he suffers to wean him from life. He will 
admire the divine goodness which commissions the infirmi- 
ties of sickness to divest the world of its enchantments, and 
to strip death of some of its most formidable terrors. He 
feels with how much less reluctance we quit a body ex- 
hausted by suffering than one in the vigor of heaUh. 

Sickness, instead of narrowing the heart, its worst effect 
on an unrenewed mind, enlarges his. Ho earnestly ex- 



226 TEMPER AND CONDUCT OP THE CHRISTIAN 

horts those around him to defer no act of repentance, no 
labor of love, no deed of justice, no work of mercy, to that 
state of incapacity in which he now lies. 

How many motives has the Christian to restrain his 
murmurs! Murmuring offends God both as it is injurious 
to his goodness and as it perverts the occasion which God 
has now afforded for giving an example of patience. Let 
us not complain that we have nothing to do in sickness, 
when we are furnished with the opportunity as well as 
called to the duty of resignation; the duty indeed is always 
ours, but the occasion is now more eminently given. Let 
us not say even in this depressed state that we have no- 
thing to be thankful for. If sleep be afforded, let us ac- 
knowledge the blessing; if wearisome nights be our portion, 
let us remember they are " appointed to us." Let us miti- 
gate the grievance of watchfulness by considering it as a 
sort of prolongation of life ; as the gift of more minutes 
granted for meditation and prayer. If we are not able to 
employ it to either of these purposes, there is a fresh oc- 
casion for exercising that resignation which will be accept- 
ed for both. 

If reason be continued, yet with sufferings too intense 
for any religious duty, the sick Christian may take comfort 
that the business of life was accomplished, before the sick 
ness began. He will not be terrified if duties are super- 
seded, if means are at an end, for he has nothing to do but to 
die. — This is the act for which all other acts, all other 
duties, all other means, will have been preparing him. He 
who has long been habituated to look death in the face, 
who has often anticipated the agonies of dissolving nature; 
who has accustomed himself to pray for support under 
them, will now feel the blessed effect of those petitions 
which have long been treasured in heaven. To those an- 
ticipatory prayers he may perhaps now owe the humble 
confidence of hope in this inevitable hour. Habituated to 
the contemplation, he will not, at least, have the dreadful 
additions of surprise and novelty to aggravate the trying 
scene. It has long been familiar to his mind, though hith- 
erto it could only operate with the inferior force of a pic- 
ture to a reality. He will not however have so much 
scared his imagination by the terrors of death, as invigorat- 
ed his spirit by looking beyond them to the blessedness 
which follows. Faith will not so much dwell on the open- 
ing grave as shoot forward to the glories to which it leads. 
The hope of heaven will soften the pangs which lie in the 



IN SICKNESS AND [N DEATH. 227 

way to it. On heaven then he will fix his eyes rather than 
on the awful intervening circumstances. He will not 
dwell on the struggle which is for a moment, but on the 
crown which is for ever. He will endeavor to think less 
of death than of its conqueror; less of the grave than of 
its spoiler; less of the body in ruins than of the spirit in 
glory; less of the darkness of his closing day than of the 
opening dawn of immortality. In some brighter moments, 
when viewing his eternal redemption drawing nigh, as if 
the freed spirit had already burst its prison walls, as if the 
manumission had actually taken place, he is ready exul- 
tingiy to exclaim, "my soul is escaped, the snare is 
broken, and I am delivered." 

If he ever inclines to wish for recovery, it is only that he 
may glorify God by his future life, more than he has done 
by the past; but as he knows the deceitfulness of his heart, 
he is not certain that this would be the case, and he there- 
fore does not wish to live. Yet should he be restored, he 
humbly resolves, in a better strength than his own, to dedi- 
cate his life to the restorer. 

But he suffers not his thoughts to dwell on life. Retro- 
spections are at an end. His prospects as to this world 
are at an end also. He commits himself unreservedly to 
his Heavenly Father, But though secure of the port, he 
may still dread the passage. The Christian will rejoice 
that his rest is at hand, the man may shudder at the un- 
known transit. If faith is strong, nature is weak. Nay 
in this awful exigence strong faith is sometimes rendered 
faint through the weakness of nature. 

At the moment when his faith is looking round for every 
additional confirmation, he may rejoice in those blessed 
certainties, those glorious realizations which scripture 
affords. He may take comfort that the strongest attesta- 
tions given by the apostles to the reality of the heavenly 
state were not conjectural. They, to use the words of our 
Savior, spake what they knew and testified what they had 
seen, " I reckon," says St. Paul, " that the afflictions of 
this present life are not worthy to be compared with the 
glory that shall be revealed." He said this after he had 
been caught up into the third heaven; after he had beheld 
the glories to which he alludes. The author of the apoc- 
alyptic vision having described the ineffable glories of the 
new Jerusalem, thus puts new life and power into his de- 
scription. — " I John saw these things, and heard them," 



228 THE CHRISTIAN IN SICKNESS AND IN DEATH. 

The power of distinguishing objects increases with our 
approach to tliem. The Christian feels that he is entering 
on a state where every care will cease, every fear vanish, 
every desire be fulfilled, every sin be done away, every 
grace perfected. Where there will be no more tempta- 
tions to resist, no more passions to subdue; no more insen- 
sibility to mercies, no more deadness in service, no more 
wandering in prayer, no more sorrows to be felt for him- 
self, nor tears to be shed for others. He is going where 
his devotion will be without languor, his love without alloy, 
his doubts certainty, his expectation enjoyment, his hope 
fruition. All will be perfect, for God will be all in all. 

From God he knows that he shall derive immediately all 
his happiness. It will no longer pass through any of those 
channels which now sully its purity. It will be offered him 
through no second cause which may fail, no intermediate 
agent which may deceive, no uncertain medium which may 
disappoint. The felicity is not only certain, but perfect, — 
not only perfect, but eternal. 

As he approaches the land of realities, the shadows of 
this earth cease to interest or mislead him. The films are 
removed from his eyes. Objects are stripped of their false 
lustre. Nothing that is really little any longer looks great. 
The mists of vanity are dispersed. Every thing which is 
to have an end appears small, appears nothing. Eternal 
things assume their proper magnitude — for he beholds 
them in the true point of vision. He has ceased to lean on 
the world, for he has found it both a reed and a spear; it 
has failed and it has pierced him. He leans not on him- 
self, for he has long known his weakness. He leans not on 
his virtues, for they can do nothing for him. Had he no 
better refuge he feels that his sun would set in darkness; 
his life close in despair. 

But he knows in whom he has trusted, and therefore 
knows not what he should fear. He looks upward with 
holy but humble confidence to that Great Shepherd, who 
having long since conducted him into green pastures, 
having by his rod corrected, and by his staff supported 
him, will, he humbly trusts, guide him through the dark 
valley of the shadow of death, and safely land him on the 
peaceful shores of everlasting rest. 



229 



AN ESSAY 

ON THE 

CHARACTER AND PRACTICAL WRITINGS 

OF 

SAINT PAUL. 



St. Paul hath furnished us with so rich a variety of moral and spiritua 
precepts, subordinate to the general laws of piety and virtue, that out of 
them might well be compiled a body of ethics, or system of precepts de 
officiis, in truth and completeness far excelling those which any philosophy 
hath been able to devise or deliver. — Dr. Barrow. 



230 



PREFACE. 



It is with no little diffidence that the writer of the following 
pages ventures to submit them to the public eye. She comes " in 
weakness and in fear, and in much trembling." She is fully av/are, 
that whoever pretends to institute an inquiry into the character, and 
especially into the writings, of the great Apostle of the Gentiles, in 
a manner at all adequate to the dignity and excellence of both, 
should possess many and high requisites, to which she can make 
out no fair title. It would, however, be entirely superfluous to in- 
sist on her incompetency to the proper execution of such a work, 
on her deficiencies in ancient learning. Biblical criticism, and deep 
theological knowledge ; because the sagacity of the reader would 
not fail to be beforehand with her avowal, in detecting them. It 
may, however, serve as some apology for the boldness of the present 
undertaking, that these volumes are not of a critical, but of a prac- 
tical nature. 

On the doctrinal portion, more especially, of St. Paul's Epistles, 
such a multitude of admirable discourses have been composed, 
that to have attempted to add to their number, without reaching 
their excellence, would have been as unnecessary as it might have 
been presumptuous. On the practical part, also, much has been 
ably and usefully written. Dissertations, commentaries, treatises, 
and sermons, however, though of superior merit, have not worn 
out the subject ; and elucidations of his writings, whether they re- 
late to doctrine or to practice, cannot, in any point of view, be un- 
dertaken without exhibiting new proofs of those inestimable trea- 
sures they contain. They are a golden mine, in which the diligent 
workman, the deeper he digs, the more he will discover ; the farther 
he examines, the more he will find. Rich veins, hitherto unheeded, 
will overpay his labors, will continue to pour out upon him their 
fresh abundance of precious ore. Even the present explorer, who 
had no skill to penetrate his depths, has been sometimes surprised 
at the opulence which lay upon the surface, and of which she had 
not before, perhaps, fully estimated the value. 

There are, it is true, passages in the works of this great Apostle, 
(but they are of rare occurrence, and bear no proportion to such as 
are obvious,) which have been interpreted in a diiferent and even 
contradictory manner by men, who, agreeing in the grand essentials 
of Christianity, may be allowed to diflfer on a few abstruse points, 
without any impeachment of the piety on either side. If one must 
be mistaken, both may be sincere. If either be wrong, both doubt- 
less desire to be right; and, happily for mankind, we shall all be 
ultimately tried by a Judge, who is a searcher of the thoughts and 
intents of the heart; in whose sight the reciprocal exercise of Chris- 
tian charity may be more acceptable than tiial entire uniformity of 



PREFACE 231 

sentiment which would supersede the occasion of its exercise. 
* What I know not, teach Thou me," is a petition which even the 
wisest are not too wise to offer ; and they who have preferred it 
with the most effect, are, of all others, the persons who will judge 
the most tenderly of the different views, or unintentional misconcep- 
tions, of the opposite party. 

That conquest in debate over a Christian adversary, which is 
achieved at the expense of the Christian temper, will always be 
dearly purchased ; and, though a triumph so obtained may discomfit 
the opponent, it will afford no moral triumph to the conqueror. 

Waving, therefore, both from disinclination and inability, what- 
ever passages may be considered as controversial, the writer has 
confined herself to endeavor, though, it must be confessed, imper- 
fectly and superficially, to bring forward St. Paul's character as a 
model for our general imitation, and his practical writings as a store- 
house for our general instruction ; avoiding whatever might be con- 
sidered as a ground for the discussion of any point not immediately 
tending to practical utility. 

It may be objected to her plan, that it is not reasonable to propose 
for general imitation, a character so highly gifted, so peculiarly cir- 
cumstanced,— an inspired apostle, — a devoted martyr. But it is 
the principal design of these pages, — a design which it may be 
thought is too frequently avowed in them, — to show that our com- 
mon actions are to be performed, and our common trials sustained, 
in somewhat of the same spirit and temper with those high duties 
and those unparalleled sufferings to which St. Paul was called 
out; and that every Christian, in his measure and degree, should 
exhibit somewhat of the dispositions inculcated by that religion, of 
which the apostle Paul was the brightest human example, as well 
as the most illustrious human teacher. 

The writer is persuaded, that many read the Epistles of St. 
Paul with deep reverence for the station they hold in the inspired 
oracles, without considering that they are at the same time su- 
premely excellent for their unequalled applicableness to life and 
manners ; that many, while they highly respect the writer, think 
him too high for ordinary use. It has, therefore, been her partic- 
ular object^ in the present work, not indeed to diminish the dignity 
of the apostle, but to diminish, in one sense, the distance at which 
we are apt to hold so exalted a model ; to draw him into a more in- 
timate connection with ourselves ; to let him down, as it were, not 
to our level, but to our familiarity. To induce us to resort to him, 
not only on the great demands and trying occurrences of life, but 
to bring both the writings and the conduct of this distinguished 
Saint to mix with our common concerns ; to incorporate the doctrines 
which he teaches, the principles which he exhibits, and the precepts 
which he enjoins, into our ordinary habits, into our every day prac- 
tice ; to consider him not only as the writer who has the most ably 
and successfully unfolded the sublime truths of our divine religion, 
and as the instructor w4io has supplied us with the noblest system 
of the higher ethics, but who has even condescended to extend his 
code to the more minute exigences and relations of familiar life. 

It will, perhaps, be objected to the writer of these pages, tha< 
she has shown too little method i her distribution of the parts of 



232 PREFACE. 

her subject, and too little system in her arrangement of the whole , 
that she has expatiated too largely on some points, passed over 
others too sHghtly, and left many unnoticed ; that she has exhibited 
no history of the hfe, and observed no regular order in her reference 
to the actions of the apostle. She can return no answer to these 
anticipated charges, but that, as she never aspired to the dignity 
of an expositor, so she never meant to enter into the details of the 
biographer 

Formed, as they are, upon the most extensive views of the nature 
of man, it is no wonder that the writings of St. Paul have been 
read with the same degree of interest, by Christians of every name, 
age, and nation. The principles they contain are, in good truth, 
absolute and universal : and whilst this circumstance renders them 
of general obligation, it enables us, even in the remotest generation, 
to judge of the skilfulness of his addresses to the understanding, 
and to feel the aptitude of his appeals to the heart. 

To the candor of the reader, — a candor which, though perhaps 
she has too frequently tried, and too long solicited, she has, how- 
ever, never yet failed to experience, — she commits this little work. 
If it should set one human being on the consideration of objects 
hitherto neglected, she will account that single circumstance, suc- 
cess ; — nay, she will be reconciled even to failure, if that failure should 
stimulate some more enlightened mind, some more powerful pen, 
to supply, in a future work on the same subject, the deficiences of 
which she has been guilty; to rectify the errors which she may 
have committed ; to rescue the cause which she may have injured. 

Barley-Wood, January 20, 1815. 



233 



SAINT PAUL. 



CHAP. I. 

Introductory remarhs on the moralitij of Paganism, showing 
the necessity of the Christian Revelation. 

The morality of a people necessarily partakes of the 
nature of their theology; and in proportion as it is founded 
on the knowledge of the true God, in such proportion it 
tends to improve the conduct of man. The meanest Chris- 
tian believer has here an advantage over the most en- 
lightened heathen philosopher; for what he knows of the 
nature of God, arising chiefly from what he knows of Christ, 
and entirely from what is revealed in Scripture, he gains 
from those divine sources more clear and distinct views 
of the Deity, than unassisted reason could ever attain; and 
of consequence, more correct ideas of what is required of 
himself, both with respect to God and man. His ideas may 
be mean in their expression, compared with the splendid 
language of the sages of antiquity; but the cause of the 
superiority of his cunc^^ptions is obvious. While they 
"go about to establish then- own wisdom," he submits 
to the wisdom of God, as he finds it is m hla word. What 
inadequate views must the wisest pagans, though " they 
felt after him," have entertained of Deity, who could at 
best only contemplate him in his attributes of power and 
beneficence, whilst their highest unassisted flights could 
never reach the remotest conception of that incompre- 
hensible blessing, the union of his justice and his mercy 
in the redemption of the world by his Son — a blessing 
familiar and intelligible to the most illiterate Christian. 

The religion of the heathens was so deplorably bad in 
its principle, that it is no wonder their practice was pro- 
portionably corrupt. "Those just measures of right and 
wrong," says Locke, " which necessitv had introduced, 



234 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

which tl\e civil laws prescribed, or philosophy recommend- 
ed, stood not on their true foundation.'' They served indeed 
to tie society together, and by these bands and ligaments 
promoted order and convenience: but there was no divine 
command to make them respected, and there will naturally 
be little reverence for a law, where the legislator is not 
reverenced, much less where he is not recognised. There 
will also be little obedience to a law without sanctions, 
where neither penalty is feared, nor reward expected. 

Previous to the establishment of Christianity, philosophy 
had attained to its utmost perfection, and had shown how 
low was its highest standard. It had completely betrayed 
its inability to effect a revolution in the minds of men. 
" Human reason," says the same great authority above 
quoted, " never yet, from unquestionable principles or clear 
deductions, made out an entire body of the law of nature. 
If a collection could be made of all the moral precepts in 
the pagan world, many of which may be found in the Chris- 
tian religion, that would not at all hinder, but that the 
world still stood as much in need of our Saviour, and of the 
morality he taught." The law of the New Testament re- 
commends itself to our regard by its excellence, and to our 
obedience by the authority of the lawgiver. Christianity, 
therefore, presents not only the highest perfections, but the 
surest standard of morals. 

In a multitude of the noble sentences and beautiful apho- 
risms of many of the heathen writers, there was indeed 
a strong tone of morality. But these fine sentiments, not 
flowing from any perennial source, had seldom any power- 
ful effect on conduct. Our great poet has noticed this dis- 
cordance between principle and practice, in his dialogue 
between two great and virtuous Romans. — Cassius, who 
disbelieved a future state, ropioves Brutus for the inconsis- 
tency between liio Responding temper and the doctrines of 
fiis o^vxi. stoic school: 

You make no use of your philosopliy, 
If you give way to accidental evils. 

Many of their v/orks, in almost every species of litera- 
ture, exhibit such perfection as to stretch the capacity of 
the reader, while they kindle his admiration, and invest 
with no inconsiderable reputation, him who is able to seize 
their meaning, and to taste their beauties; so that an able 
critic of their writings almost ranks with him who excels in 
original composition. In like manner the lives of their 
great men abound in splendid sayings, as well as heroic 
virtues, to such a degree as to exalt our idea of the human 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 235 

intellect, and, in single instances, of the human character 
We say, in single instances, for their idea of a perfect 
character wanted consistency, wanted completeness. It 
had many constituent parts, but there was no whole which 
comprised them. The moral fractions made up no integral 
The virtuous man thought it no derogation from his virtue 
to be selfish, the conqueror to be revengeful, the philoso- 
pher to be arrogant, the injured to be unforgiving: for- 
bearance was cowardice, humility was baseness, meekness 
was pusillanimity. Not only their justice was stained with 
cruelty, but the most cruel acts of injustice were the road 
to a popularity which immortalized the perpetrator. — The 
good man was his own centre. Their virtues wanted to be 
drawn out of themselves, and this could not be the case 
As their goodness did not arise from any knowledge, so it 
could not spring from any imitation of the Divine perfec- 
tions. That inspiring principle, the love of God, the vital 
spark of all religion, was a motive of which they had not 
so much as heard; and if they had, it was a feeling which 
it would have been impossible for them to cherish, since 
some of the best of their deities were as bad as the worst 
of themselves. 

When the history of their own religion contained little 
more than the quarrels and the intrigues of these deities, 
could we expect that the practice of the people would be 
much better, or more consistent than their belief? If the 
divinities were at once holy and profligate, shall we wonder 
if the adoration was at once devout and impure ? The wor- 
shipper could not commit a crime but he might vindicate it 
by the example of some deity; he could not gratify a sinful 
appetite, of which his religion did not furnish a justification. 

Besides this, all their scattered documents of virtue 
could never make up a body of morals. They wanted a 
connecting tie. — The doctrines of one school were at vari- 
ance with those of another. Even if they could have 
clubbed their opinions and picked out the best from each 
sect, so as to have patched up a code, still the disciples of 
one sect would not have submitted to the leader of another; 
the system would have wanted a head, or the head would 
have wanted authority, and the code would i^u^e wanted 
sanctions. 

And as there was n^ governing system, so there was no 
universal ^■^lG of morals, for morality was different in dif- 
foient places. — In some countries people thought it no 
more a crime to expose their own children than in others 
to adopt those of their neighbor. — The Persians were not 



236 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

looked upon as the worse moralists for marrying their 
mothers, nor the Hyrcanians for not marrying at all, nor 
the Sogdians for murdering their parents, nor the Scythians 
for eating their dead.* 

The best writers seldom made use of arguments drawn 
from future blessedness to enforce their moral instruction. 
Excellently as they discoursed on the beauty of virtue, 
their disquisitions generally seemed to want a motive and 
an end. Did not such a state of comfortless ignorance, of 
spiritual degradation, of moral depravity, emphatically call 
for a religion which should "bring life and immortality to 
light?" Did it not imperatively require that Spirit which 
should " reprove the world of sin, of righteousness, and of 
judgment?" Did it not pant for that blood of Christ which 
cleanseth from all sin. 

Even those fine theorists who have left us beautiful re- 
flections on the Divine nature, have bequeathed no rule 
for his worship, no direction for his service, no injunctions 
to obey him; they have given us little encouragement to 
virtue, and no alleviation to sorrow but the impracticable 
injunction, not to feel it. The eight short beatitudes in 
the 5th of St. Matthew convey not only more promises 
to virtue, and more consolation to sufferers, but more ap- 
propriate promise to the individual grace, more specific 
comfort to the specific suffering, than are to be found in all 
the ancient tomes of moral discipline. 

Those who were invested with a sacred character, and 
who delivered the pretended sense of the oracles, talked 
much of the gods, but said little of goodness; while the 
philosophers who, though they were professors of wisdom, 
were, not generally to the vulgar, teachers of morals, 
seldom gave the Deity a place in their ethics. Between 
these conflicting instructers the people stood little chance of 
acquiring any just notions of moral rectitude. They were 
indeed under a necessity of attending the worship of the 
temples, they believed that the neglect of this duty would 
offend the gods; but in their attendance they were neither 
taught that purity of heart, nor that practical virtue, which 
«^'ght have been supposed likely to please them. The 
philosophfcra, If they were disposed to give the people some 
rules of duty, were ovovmatched by the priests, who knew 
they should gratify them more bj omitting what they so 
little relished. As to the people themselves, thf-.y rlid not 
desire to be better than the priests wished to make them. 

* Plutarch relates, that Alexander, after conquering these countries, had 
reformed some of their evil habits. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 237 

They found processions pleasanter than prayers, ceremo- 
nies cheaper than duties, and sacrifices easier than self- 
denials, with the additional recommendation, that the one 
made amends for the want of the other.* 

When a violent plague raged in Rome, the method they 
took for appeasing the deities, and putting a stop to the 
distemper, was the establishment of a theatre and the in- 
troduction of plays. The plague, however, having no 
dramatic taste, continued to rage. But neither the piety 
nor ingenuity of the suppliants was exhausted. A nail 
driven into the temple of Jupiter was found to be a more 
promising expedient. But the gods being as hard as the 
metal of which the expiation was made, were no more 
moved by the nail, than the plague had been by the theatri- 
cal exhibition; though the event was thought of sufficient 
importance for the creation of a dictator! — What progress 
had reason, to say nothing of religion, made in the first 
metropolis in the world, when a nail or a play was thought 
a rational expedient for pacifying the gods and stopping 
the pestilence. Nor does reason, mere human reason, 
seem to have grown wiser in her age. During the late 
attempt to establish heathenism in a neighboring country, 
does it not look as if the thirty theatres which were opened 
every night in its capital in the early part of the revolution, 
had been intended, in imitation of the Romans, whose reli- 
gion, titles, and offices, the French affected to adopt, as a 
nightly expiation to the goddess of reason for the cruelties 
and carnage of the day? 

Whatever conjectural notions some of the wise might 
entertain of a future state, the people at large could only 
acquire the vague and comfortless ideas of it, which might 
be picked up from the poets. This indefinite belief, im- 
mersed in fable, and degraded by the grossest superstition, 
added as little to the piety as to the happiness of mankind. 
The intimations of their Tartarus, and their Elysian fields, 
were so connected with fictions, as to convey to the mind 
no other impression, but that they were fictions themselves. 
Such uncertain glimmerings of such a futurity could afford 
neither warning nor encouragement, neither cheerful hope, 
nor salutary fear. They might amuse the mind, but never 
could influence the conduct. They might gratify the 
imagination, but could not communicate " a hope full of 
immortality." They neither animated the pious, nor suc- 
cored the tempted, nor supported the afflicted, nor cheered 
the dying. 

* See Locke oit ilie hoasnnableiiess nf riinstI;xoit\ 



238 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

The study of their mythology could carry with it nothing 
but corruption. It neither intended to bring glory to God, 
nor peace and good will, much less salvation, to men. It 
was invented to embellish the fabulous periods of their his- 
tory, to flatter illustrious families, by celebrating the human 
exploits of their deified progenitors: and thus to give an 
additional and national interest to their bewitching fables. 
What a system did those countries uphold, when the more 
probable way to make the people virtuous, was to keep them 
ignorant of religion! — when the best way to teach them 
their duty to man, was to keep their duties out of sight! 

It is indeed but justice to acknowledge, the most of the 
different schools of philosophy held some one great truth. 
Aristotle maintained the existence of a first cause ; Cicero, 
in opposition to the disciples of Epicurus, acknowledged a 
superintending Providence. Many of the stoics were of 
opinion, that the consummation of all things would be effec- 
ted by fire. Yet every philosopher, however rational in 
many parts of his system, not only adopted some absurdity 
himself, but wove it into his code. One believed that the 
soul was only a vapor, which was transmuted from body to 
body, and was to expiate, in the shape of a brute, the sins 
it had committed under that of a man. Another affirmed 
that the soul was a material substance, and that matter was 
endowed with the faculties of thought and reason. Others 
imagined every star to be a god. Some denied not only a 
superintending, but a creating Providence: insisting that 
the world was made, without any plan or contrivance, by a 
fortuitous concourse of certain particles of matter; and that 
the members of the human body were not framed for the 
several purposes to which they have been accidentally ap- 
plied. One affirmed the eternity of the world; another, that 
we can be certain of nothing, — that even our own existence 
is doubtful. 

A religion so absurd, which had no basis even in proba- 
bility and no attraction but what it borrowed from a prepos- 
terous fancy, could not satisfy the deep thinking philosopher; 
a philosophy abstruse and metaphysical was not sufficiently 
accommodated to general use to suit the people. Lactan- 
tius, on the authority of Plato, relates, that Socrates declar- 
ed there was no such thing as human wisdom. In short, 
all were dissatisfied. The wise had a vague desire for 
religion which comprehended great objects, and had noble 
ends in view. The people stood in need of a religion 
which should bring relief to human wants, and consolation 
to human miseries. They wanted a simple way, propor- 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 239 

tioned to their comprehension; a short way, proportioned 
to their leisure; a living way, which would give light to 
the conscience and support to the n:iind; a way founded, 
not on speculation, but evidence, which should carry con- 
version to the heart as well as conviction to the under- 
standing. Such a religion God was preparing for them in 
the Gospel of his Son. Christianity was calculated to 
supply the exigences both of the Greeks and of the bar- 
barians; but the former, though they more acknowledged 
their want, more slowly welcomed the relief; while the 
latter, though they less felt the one, more readily accepted 
the other. 

Alexander, though he had the magnanimity to declare 
to his illustrious preceptor, that he had rather excel in 
knowledge than in power, yet blamed him for divulging to 
the world those secrets in learning, which he wished to 
confine exclusively to themselves. How would he have 
been offended with the Christian philosophy, which, though 
it has mysteries for all, has no secrets for any! How 
would he have been offended with that bright hope of 
glory, which would have displayed itself in the same efful- 
gence to his meanest soldier, as to the conqueror of Persia! 

But how would both the monarch and the philosopher 
have looked on a religion, which after kindling their curios- 
ity, by intimating it had greater things to bestow than learn- 
ing and empire, should dash their high hopes, by making 
these great things consist in poverty of spirit, in being little 
in their own eyes, in not loving the world, nor the things of 
the world. 

But what would they have said to a religion which placed 
numan intellect in an inferior degree in the scale of God's 
gifts; and even degraded it from thence, when not used to 
his glory ? What would they have thought of a religion, 
which, so far from being sent exclusively to the conqueror 
in arms, or the leaders in science, frankly declared at its 
outset, that " not many mighty, not many noble were call- 
ed," which professed, while it filled the hungry with good 
things, to send the rich empty away.^ 

Yet that mysterious Hope which Alexander declared was 
all he kept for himself, when he profusely scattered king- 
doms among his favorites, — those ambiguous tears which 
he shed, because he had no more worlds to conquer; that 
deeply felt, but ill understood hope, those luidefined and un- 
intelligible tears, mark a profounder feeling of the vanity 
of this world, a more fervent panting after something bet- 
ter than power or knowledge, a more heart-lelt " longing 



240 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

after immortality," than almost any express language which 
philosophy has recorded. 

"Learn of me" would havo been thought a dignified ex- 
ordium for the founder of a new religion by the masters of 
the Grecian schools. But when they came to the humbling 
motive of the injunction, "for I am meek and lowly in 
heart," how would their expectations have been damped.'' 
They would have thought it an abject declaration from the 
lips of a great teacher, unless they had understood that grand 
paradox of Christianity, that lowliness of heart was among 
the highest attainments to be made by a rational creature. 

When they had heard the beginning of that animating in- 
terrogation, — Where is the wise .'' Where is the disputer 
of this world ? methinks I behold the whole portico and ac- 
ademy emulously rush forward at an invitation so alluring, 
at a challenge so personal; but how instinctively would they 
have shrunk back at the repulsive question which succeeds; 
— Hath not God made foolish the wisdom of this world.'' 
Yet would not Christianity, well understood and faithfully 
received, have taught these exalted spirits, that, to look 
down upon what is humanly great, is a loftier attainment 
than to look up to it .'' 

W^ould it not have carried a sentiment to the heart of 
Alexander, a system to the mind of Aristotle, which their 
respective, though differently pursued, careers of ambition, 
utterly failed of furnishing to either? 

Reason, even by those who possessed it in the highest 
perfection, as it gave no adequate view even of natural re- 
ligion, so it made no adequate provision for correct morals. 
The attempt appears to have been above the reach of human 
powers. " God manifested in the flesh," — He who was 
not only true, but The Truth, and who taught the truth as 
" one having authority," — was alone competent to this great 
work. The duty of submission to divine power was to the 
multitude more intelligible, than the intricate deductions of 
reason. That God is, and is a rewarder of them that seek 
him; that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, 
make a compendious summary both of natural and revealed 
religion ; they are propositions which carry their own expla- 
nation, disentangled from those trains of argument, which, 
as few could have been brought to comprehend, perhaps it 
was the greatest wisdom in the philosopher never to have 
proposed them. 

The most skilful dialectician could only reason on known 
principles; but without the superinduction of revealed relig- 
ion, he could onlv, with all his efforts, and thev have been 



ESSAY OxV ST. PAUL. 24J 

prodigious, llirnish " rules," but not " arms." Logic is in- 
deed a powerful weapon to fence, but not to fight with; that 
which is a conqueror in the schools is impotent in the field. 
It is powerful to refute a sophism, but weak to repel a temp- 
tation. It may defeat an opponent made up like itself of 
pure intellect; but is no match for so substantial an assailant 
as moral evil. It yields to the onset, when the antagonists 
are furious passions and headstrong appetites. It can make 
a successful thrust against an opinion, but is too feeble to 
" pull down the strong holds of sin and Satan." 

If, through the strength of human corruption, the restrain- 
ing power of divine grace is still too frequently resisted, — 
if the offered light of the Holy Spirit is still too frequently 
quenched, what must have been the state of mankind, when 
thatgrace was not made known, when that light was not fully 
revealed, when "darkness covered the earth, and gross 
darkness the people?" But under the clear illumination of 
evangelical truth, every precept becomes a principle, every 
argument a motive, every direction a duty, every doctrine 
a law; and why .^ Because thus saith the Lord. 

Christianity, however, is not merely a religion of authori- 
ty; the soundest reason embraces most confidently what the 
most explicit revelation has taught, and the deepest inquirer 
is usually the most convinced Christian. The reason of 
philosophy, is a disputing reason, that of Christianity, an 
obeying reason. The glory of the pagan religion consisted 
in virtuous sentiments, the glory of the Christian in the 
pardon and the subjugation of sin. The humble Christian 
may say with one of the ancient fathers, — I will not glorv 
because I am righteous, but because I am redeemed. 



CHAP. II. 

On the Historical ivriters of the JYeiv Testament. 

AxMONG the innumerable evidences of the truth of Christi- 
anity, there is one of so rare and extraordinary a nature, as 
might of itself suffice to carry conviction to the mind of 
every unprejudiced inquirer, even if this proof were not 
accompanied by such a cloud of concurring testimonies. 

The sacred volume is composed by a vast variety of 
writers, men of every diflierent rank and condition, of every 
diversity of character and turn of mind: the monarch and 

1 1 



242 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

the plebeian, the illiterate and the learned, the foremost in 
talent and the moderately gifted in natural advantages, the 
historian and the legislator, the orator and the poet, — each 
had his immediate vocation, each his peculiar province: some 
prophets, some apostles, some evangelists, living in ages re- 
mote from each other, under different modes of civil govern- 
ment, under different dispensations of the divine economy, 
filling a period of time which reached from the first dawn of 
heavenly light to its meridian radiance. The Old Tesfa- 
ment and the New, the law and the gospel; the prophets 
predicting events, and the evangelists recording them; the 
doctrinal yet didactic epistolary writers, and he who closed 
the sacred canon in the apocalyptic vision; — all these fur- 
nished their respective portions, and yet all tally with a 
dove-tailed correspondence; all the different materials are 
joined with a completeness the most satisfactory, with an 
agreement the most incontrovertible. 

This instance of uniformity without design, of agreement 
without contrivance; this consistency maintained through a 
long series of ages, without a possibility of the ordinary 
methods for conducting such a plan; these unparalleled con- 
gruities, these unexampled coincidences, form altogether a 
species of evidence, of which there is no other instance in 
the history of all the other books in the world. 

All these variously gifted writers here enumerated, concur 
in this grand peculiarity, that all have the same end in view, 
all are pointing to the same object, all, without any project- 
ed collusion, are advancing the same scheme; each brings 
in his several contingent, without any apparent consideration 
how it may unite with the portions brought by other contri- 
butors, without any spirit of accommodation, without any 
visible intention to make out a case, without indeed any 
actual resemblance, more than that every separate portion 
being derived from the same spring, each must be governed 
by one common principle, and that principle being truth 
itself, must naturally and consentaneously produce assimi- 
lation, conformity, agreement. What can we conclude 
frorn all this, but what is indeed the inevitable conclusion, 
— a conclusion which forces itself on the mind, and com- 
pels the submission of the understanding; that all this, 
under differences of administration, is the work of one and 
the same great, omniscient, and eternal spirit. 

If, however, from the general uniformity of plan visible, 
throughout the whole sacred canon, results one of the most 
cogent and complete arguments for its divine original, oth- 
ers will also rise from its mode of execution, its peculiar 



ESSAY Ox\ ST. PAUL. 243 

diversities, and some other circumstances attending it, not 
so easily brought under one single point of view. — Does it 
not look as if almighty wisdom refused to divide the glory 
of his revelation with man, when, passing by the shining 
lights of the pagan world, He chose, in the promulgation 
of the Gospel, to make use of men of ordinary endowments, 
men possessing the usual defects and prejudices of persons 
so educated and so circumstanced? Not only the other 
immediate followers, but even the biographers of Christ, 
were persons of no distinguished abilities. Integrity was 
almost their sole, as it were the most requisite qualification. 
On this point it is not too much to maintain, that the writ- 
ings of each of these men are not only so consistent with 
each other, but also with themselves, as to ofler, individually, 
as well as aggregately, a proof of their own veracity, as 
well as of the truth itself 

Had they, however, all recorded uniformly the same more 
inconsiderable particulars; had there not been that natural 
diversity, that incidental variation, observable in all other 
historians; — had not one preserved passages which the 
others overlooked, some recording more of the actions of 
Jesus, others treasuring up more of his discourses; some 
particularizing the circumstances of his birth; others only 
referring to it as a fact not requiring fresh authentication; 
another again plainly adverting to it by " the Word that 
was made flesh, and dwelt among us;" and adding a new 
circumstance by citing the testimony of the Baptist to " the 
Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world;" — in 
short, had there been in the several relations not mere con- 
sistencyj but positive identity, then, not only the fidelity of 
the writers would have been questionable, and concert and 
design justly have been suspected, but we should in effect 
have had only the testimony of one Gospel instead of four. 

But to pass to other evidences of truth. — The manner in 
which these writers speak of themselves, is at once a proof 
of their humility and of their veracity. The conversion 
of St. Matthew is slightly related by himself and in the 
most modest terms. He simply says, speaking in the third 
person; "Jesus saw a man named Matthew, and saith unto 
him. Follow me: and he arose and followed him: and as Jesus 
sat at meat in the house, many publicans and sinners came 
and sat down with him."* Not a word is said of a sacrifice 
so honorable to himself, and so generously recorded by St. 
Luke in those words, he left all, and followed him; not a 
word of the situation he renounced at the first call of the 

* Malthevv, cli. f). 



244 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL, 

Master, and which appears to have been lucrative from 
" the great feast he made for him in his own house, and the 
great company of publicans and others who sat down with 
him."* St. Luke relates only his hospitality; St. Matthew, 
as if to abase himself the more, describes only the sinners 
which made up his society previous to his conversion. 

These sober recorders of events the most astonishing, 
are never carried away, by the circumstances they relate, 
into any pomp of diction, into any use of superlatives. 
There is not, perhaps, in the whole Gospel a single inter- 
jection, nor an exclamation, not any artifice to call the 
reader's attention to the marvels of which the relaters were 
the witnesses. Absorbed in their holy task, no alien idea 
presents itself to their mind: the object before them fills it. 
They never digress, are never called away by the solicita- 
tions of vanity, or the suggestions of curiosity. No image 
starts up to divert their attention. There is indeed, in the 
Gospels, much imagery, much allusion, much allegory, 
but they proceed from their Lord, and are recorded as his. 
The writers never fill up the intervals between events. 
They leave circumstances to make their own impression, in- 
stead of helping out the reader by any reflections of their own. 
They always feel the holy ground on which they stand. 
They preserve the gravity of history and the severity of truth, 
without enlarging the outline or swelling the expression. 

The evangelists all agree in this most unequivocal cha- 
racter of veracity, that of criminating themselves. They 
record their own errors and offences with the same sim- 
plicity with which they relate the miracles and sufferings 
of their Lord. Indeed their dulness, mistakes and failings 
are so intimately blended with his history, by their contin- 
ual demands upon his patience and forbearance, as to make 
no inconsiderable or unimportant part of it. 

This fidelity is equally amiable both in the composition, 
and in the preservation of the Old Testament, a book which 
every where testifies against those whose history it contains, 
and not seldom against the relators themselves. The author 
of the Pentateuch proclaims, in the most pointed terms, 
the ingratitude of the chosen people towards God. He 
prophesies that they will go on filling up the measure of 
their offences, calls heaven and earth to witness against 
them that he has delivered his own soul, declares that as 
they have worshipped gods which were no gods, God will 
punish them by calling a people who were no people. Yet 
this book, so disgraceful to their national character, this 

* St. Luke, cJi. 5. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 245 

register of their own offences, they would rather die than 
lose. "This," says the admirable Pascal, "is an instance 
of integrity which has no example in the world, no root in 
nature." In the Pentateuch and the Gospel, therefore, 
these parallel, these unequalled instances of sincerity, are 
incontrovertible proofs of the truth of both. 

It is obvious that the impression which was to be made 
should owe nothing to the skill, but every thing to the 
veracity of the writers. They never tried to improve upon 
the doctrines or the requirements of their Master, by mix- 
ing their own wisdom with them. Though their views were 
not clear, their obedience was implicit. It was not, how- 
ever, a mere mechanical obedience, but an undisputing 
submission to the divine teaching. Even at the glorious 
scene of the transfiguration, their amazement did not get 
the better of their fidelity. There was no vain impatience 
to disclose the wonders which had passed, and of which 
they had been allowed the honor of being witnesses. Though 
they inserted it afterwards in their narrations, " they, as 
they were commanded, kept it close, and told no man in 
those days what they had seen." 

The simplicity of the narrative is never violated; there 
is even no panegyric on the august person they commemo- 
rate, not a single epithet of commendation. When they 
mention an extraordinary effect of his divine eloquence, it 
is history, not eulogy, that speaks. They say nothing of 
their own admiration; it is "the people who were astonished 
at the gracious words which proceeded out of his mouth." 
Again, it was "the multitudes marvelled, saying, it was 
never so seen in Israel." Again, it was the officers, not the 
writer, who said, " never man spake like this man." 

In recording the most stupendous events, we are never 
called to an exhibition of their own pity, or their own ad- 
miration. In relating the most soul-moving circumstance, 
there is no attempt to be pathetic, no aim to work up the 
feelings of the reader, no appeal to his sympathy, no 
studied finish, no elaborate excitement. Jesus wept; — no 
comment. He is hungry; — no compassion escapes them. 
He is transfigured; — no expression of astonishment. He 
is agonized; — the narrative does not rise in emphasis. He 
is betrayed; — no execration to the betrayer. He is con- 
demned; — no animadversions on the iniquitous judge; 
while their own denial and desertion are faithfully recorded. 
He expires; — no remark on the tremendous catastrophe, 
no display of their own sorrow. Facts alone supply the 
void; and what facts? The earth ouakes, the sun is eclipsed, 



246 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

the graves give up their dead. In such a history, it i8 
very true, fidelity was praise, fact was glory. And yet, if, 
on the one hand, there were no need of the rhetorician's 
art to embellish the tale, what mere rhetoricians could 
have abstained from using it ? 

Thus, it seems obvious, that unlettered men were ap- 
pointed to this great work, in order that the success of the 
Gospel might not be suspected of owing any thing to natu- 
ral ability, or to splendid attainment. This arrangement, 
while it proves the astonishing progress of Christianity to 
have been caused by its own energy, serves to remove 
every just suspicion of the contrivance of fraud, the collu- 
sions of interest, or the artifices of invention. 

Had the first apostles been men of genius, they might 
have injured the purity of the Gospel by bringing their 
ingenuity into it. — Had they been men of learning, they 
might have imported from the schools of Greece and Rome, 
each from his own sect, some of its peculiar infusions, and 
thus have vitiated the simplicity of the Gospel. Had they 
been critics and philosophers, there might have been end- 
less debates which part of Christianity was the power of 
God, and which the result of man's wisdom. Thus, though 
corruptions soon crept into the church, yet no impurities 
could reach the Gospel itself. Some of its teachers became 
heretical, but the pure Word remained unadulterated. — 
However, the philosophizing or the Judaizing teachers 
might subsequently infuse their own errors into their own 
preaching, the Gospel preserved its own integrity. They 
might mislead their followers, but they could not deteriorate 
the New Testament. 

It required different gifts to promulgate and to maintain 
Christianity. The evangelists did not so much attempt to 
argue the truth of the Redeemer's doctrines, as practically 
to prove that they were of Divine origin. If called on for 
a defence, they worked a miracle. If they could not pro- 
duce a cogent argument, they could produce a paralytic 
walking. If they could not open the eyes of the prejudiced, 
they could open the eyes of the blind. Such attestation 
was to the eye-witnesses, argument the most unanswerable. 
The most illiterate persons could judge of this species of 
evidence so peculiar to Christianity. He could know 
whether he saw a sick man restored to life by a word, or a 
lame man take up his bed and walk, or one who had been 
dead four days, instantly obey the call — "Lazarus, come 
forth!" About a sentiment there might be a diversity of 
suffrages; about an action which all saw, all could entertain 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 247 

but one opinion. The caviller might have refuted a syllo- 
gism, and a fallacy might have imposed on the multitude, 
but no sophistry could counteract ocular demonstration. 

But as God does nothing in vain, so he never employs 
irrelevant instruments or superfluous means. He therefore 
did not see tit to be at the expense of a perpetual miracle to 
maintain and carry on that church which he had thought 
proper to establish by miraculous powers. When, therefore, 
the Gospel was immutably fixed on its own eternal basis, 
and its truth unimpeachably settled by the authentic testi- 
mony of so many eye witnesses to the life, death, and resur- 
rection of Jesus; a writer was brought forward, contempo- 
rary, but not connected, with them. Not only was he not 
confederate with the first institutors of Christianity ; but so 
implacably hostile \vu.s he to them, that he had assisted at 
the death of the first martyr. 

As the attestation of one notorious enemy in favor of a 
cause, is considered equivalent to that of many friends; thus 
did this distinguished adversary seem to be raised up to 
confirm and ratify all the truths he had so furiously opposed; 
to become the most able advocate of the cause he had rep- 
robated, the most powerful champion of the Saviour he had 
vilified. He was raised up to unfold more at large those 
doctrines which could not be so explicitly developed in the 
historical portions, while an immediate revelation from heav- 
en supplied to him the actual opportunities and advantages 
which the evangelists had enjoyed. Nothing short of such a 
divine communication could have placed St. Paul on a level 
with the other apostles; had he been taught of man, he must 
have been inferior to those who were taught of Jesus. 

For St. Paul had not the honor to be the personal dis- 
ciple of his Lord. His conversion and preaching were 
subsequent to the illumination of the Gospel; an intimation 
possibly, that though revelation and human learning should 
not be considered as sharing between them the work of spir- 
itual instruction, yet that human learning might hencefor- 
ward become a valuable adjunct, and a most suitable, though 
subordinate accessory in maintaining the cause of that di- 
vine truth which it had no hand in establishing. 

The ministry of Paul was not to be circumscribed, as that 
of his immediate precursors had been, by the narrow limits 
of the Jewish church. As he was designated to be the 
Apostle of the Gentiles, as he was to bear his testimony be- 
fore rulers and scholars; as he was to carry his mission into 
the presence of " kings, and not to be ashamed," — it pl^eased 
Infinite Wisdom, which always fits the instrument in the 



"248 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL 

work, and the talent to the exigence, to accommodate most 
exactly the endowments of Paul to the demands that would 
be made upon them; and as divine Providence caused Moses 
to acquire in Egypt the learning which was to prepare him 
for the legislator of a people so differently circumstanced, 
it pleased the same Infinite Wisdom to convey to Paul, 
through the mouth of a Jewish teacher, the knowledge he 
was to employ for the Gentiles, and to adapt his varied ac- 
quirements to the various ranks, characters, prejudices, and 
local circumstances of those before whom he was to advo- 
cate the noblest cause ever assigned to man. 

Of all these providential advantages he availed himself 
with a wisdom, aptness, and appropriateness, without a par- 
allel ; — a wisdom derived from that divine spirit which guided 
all his thoughts, words, and actions: and with a teachable- 
ness which demonstrated that he was never disobedient to the 
heavenly vision. 

Indeed it seemed necessary, in order to demonstrate that 
the principles of Christianity are not unattainable, nor its 
precepts impracticable, that the New Testament should, in 
some part, present to us a full exemplification of its doc- 
trines and of its spirit; that they should, to produce their 
practical effect, be embodied in a form purely human, — for 
the character of the founder of its religion is deified humani- 
ty. Did the Scriptures present no such exhibition, infidelity 
might have availed itself of the omission, for the purpose of 
asserting that Christianity was only a bright chimera, a 
beautiful fiction of the imagination; and Plato's fair idea 
might have been brought into competition with the doctrines 
of the Gospel. But in St. Paul is exhibited a portrait which 
not only illustrates its divine truth, but establishes its moral 
efficacy; a portrait entirely free from any distortion in the 
drawing, from any extravagance in the coloring. 

It is the representation of a man struggling with the sins 
and infirmities natural to man; yet habitually triumphing 
over them by that divine grace which had first rescued him 
from prejudice, bigotry, and unbelief — It represents him 
resisting, not only such temptations as are common to men, 
but surmounting trials to which no other man was ever 
called ; furnishing in his whole practice not only an instruc- 
ter, but a model; showing every where in his writings, that 
the same offers, the same supports, the same victories, are 
tendered to every sufiering child of mortality, — that the wa- 
ters of eternal life are not restricted to prophets and apostles, 
but are offered freely to every one that thirsteth, — offered 
without money and without price. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 249 



CHAP. III. 

On the epistolarij writers of the JVe?y Testament, ijarticularhj 
St. Paul 

Can the reader of taste and feeling, who has followed 
the much enduring hero of the Odyssey with growing de- 
light and increasing sympathy, though in a work of fiction, 
through all his wanderings, peruse with inferior interest 
the genuine voyages of the Apostle of the Gentiles over 
nearly the same seas? The fabulous adventurer, once land- 
ed, and safe on the shores of his own Ithaca, the reader's 
mind is satisfied, for the object of his anxiety is at rest. 
But not so ends the tale of the Christian hero. Whoever 
closed St. Luke's narrative of the diversified events of 
St, Paul's travels; whoever accompanied him with the in- 
terest his history demands, from the commencement of his 
trials at Damascus to his last deliverance from shipwreck, 
and left him preaching in his own hired house at Rome, with- 
out feeling as if he had abruptly lost sight of some one very 
dear to him, without sorrowing that they should see his 
face no more, without indulging a wish that the intercourse 
could have been carried on to the end, though that end 
were martyrdom. 

Such readers, and perhaps only such, will rejoice'to renew 
their acquaintance with this very chiefest of the apostles ; not 
indeed in the communication of sul3sequent facts, but of 
important principles; not in the records of the biographer, 
but in the doctrines of the saint. In fact, to the history of 
Paul in the sacred oracles succeed his Epistles, And these 
Epistles, as if through design, open with that " to the be- 
loved of God called to be saints" in that very city, the men- 
tion of his residence in which concludes the preceding 
narrative. 

Had the sacred canon closed with the evangelical narra- 
tions, had it not been determined in the counsels of divine 
wisdom, that a subsequent portion of inspired Scripture in 
another form, should have been added to the historical por- 
tions, that the epistles should have conveyed to us the re- 
sults of the mission and the death of Christ, how immense 
would have been the disadvantage, and how irreparable 
the loss: may we presume to add, how much less perfect 
would have been our view of the scheme of Christianity, 
had the New Testament been curtailed of this important 
portion of religious and practical instriiction. 



250 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

We should indeed have felt the same adoring gratitude 
ibr the benefits of the Redeemer, but we should have been 
in comparative ignorance of the events consequent upon 
his resurrection. We should have been totally at a loss 
to know how and by whom the first Christian churches were 
founded; how they were conducted, and what was their 
progress. We should have had but a slender notion of the 
manner in which Christianity was planted, and how won- 
derfully it flourished in the heathen soil. Above all, we 
should have been deprived of that divine instruction, equally 
the dictate of the Holy Spirit, with which the epistles abound ; 
or, which would have been worse than ignorance, uninspir- 
ed men, fanatics, or impostors would have attached to the 
Gospel their glosses, conceits, errors, and misinterpreta- 
tions. — We should have been turned over for information 
to some of those spurious gospels, and more than doubtful 
epistles, of which mention is made in the early part of eccle- 
siaslical history. What attempts might have been made by 
such writers, to amuse curiosity with a sequel of the history 
of the persons named in the New Testament! How might 
they have misled us by unprofitable details of the Virgin 
Mary, or of Joseph of Arimathea! 

What legends might have been invented, what idolatry 
even might have been incorporated with the true worship 
of God; what false history appended to the authentic re- 
cord! Not only is the divine Wisdom manifest in carrying 
on through the epistles a confirmation of the Spirit and 
power of Christianity, but the same design is no less appa- 
rent in closing the book with the Apocalypse, — a writing 
v/hich contains the testimony of the last surviving disciple 
of Jesus in extreme old age, to which he seems to have been 
providentially preserved for the very purpose of protect- 
ing the Gospel from innovations which were beginning to 
corrupt it. 

The narratives of the Evangelists would indeed have re- 
mained perfect in themselves, even without the epistles; 
but never could its truths have been so clearly understood, 
or its doctrines so fully developed, as they now are. Our 
Saviour himself intimated, that there would be a more full 
and complete knowledge of his doctrines, after he had 
ceased to deliver them, than there was at the time. How 
indeed could the doctrine of the atonement, and of pardon 
through his blood, have been so explicitly set forth during 
his life, as they afterwards were in the epistles, especially 
in those of St. Paul? 

St. Luke, in the opening of the Acts of the Apostles, 



ESS.VV ON ST. PAUr.. 251 

referring the friend to whom he inscribes it, to his " former 
treatise of all that Jesus began to do, and to teach, till ho 
was taken up, after that he had through the Holy Ghost 
given commandment to the Apostles" seems plainly to indi- 
cate that the doing and the teaching were to be carried on 
by them. All their doubts were at length removed. They 
had now a plenary conviction of the divinity of Christ's 
person, and of the dignity of his mission. They had now 
witnessed his glorious resurrection and ascension, and the 
coming of the Holy Ghost. They had attained the fullest 
assurance of the truths they were to proclaim, and had 
had time to acquire the completest certainty of their moral 
efficacy on the heart and life. 

It was therefore ordained by that Wisdom which cannot 
err, that the apostles, under the influence of the Holy 
.Spirit, should work up all the doctrines of the anterior 
Scriptures into a more systematic form: — that they should 
more fully unfold their doctrines, extract the essence of 
their separate maxims, collect the scattered rays of spirit- 
ual lio-ht into a focus; and blend the whole into one com- 
plete body. 

The epistles, therefore, are an inestimable appendix to the 
evangelists. The memoir, which contains the actions of 
the apostles, the work of an evangelist also, stands between 
these two portions of the New Testament. Thus, no chasm 
is left, and the important events which this connecting link 
supplies — particularly the descent of the Holy Spirit, the 
emblematic vision of St. Peter, and the conversion and 
apostleship of St. Paul, — naturally prepare the mind for 
that full and complete commentary on the historical books, 
which the epistles, more especially those of St. Paul, pre- 
sent to us. 

St. Paul was favored with a particular revelation, a 
personal disclosure to him of the truths with which the 
other disciples were previously acquainted. This special 
distinction placed Paul on a level with his precursors. 
Though, in point of fact, he added nothing to the Gospel 
revelation, and in point of doctrine he only gave a larger 
exposition of truths previously communicated, of duties 
already enjoined, yet here was the warrant of his teaching, 
the broad seal of his apostleship. And unless we fall into 
the gross error of insisting that the epistles in general would 
not equally be given by inspiration with other parts of the 
New Testament, I see not how any can withhold, from the 
epistles of St, Paul in particular, that reverence which 
they profess to entertain for the entire letter of revelation. 



252 ESSAY ON ST. PAUi.. 

It is a hardship to which all writers on subjects exclu- 
sively religious are liable, that if, while they are warmly 
pressing some great and important point, they omit at the 
same time, to urge some other point of great moment also, 
which they equally believe, but which they cannot in that 
connection introduce without breaking in on their imme- 
diate train of argument, they are accused of rejecting what 
they are obliged to overlook, though in its proper place 
they have repeatedly insisted upon that very truth; nay, 
though the whole tendency of their writings shows their 
equal faith in the doctrine they are said to have neglected. 
To this disingenuous treatment, amongst other more serious 
attacks upon his character, no author has been more ob- 
noxious than the apostle Paul. It has been often intimat- 
ed, that in dwelling on the efficacy of the death of Christ, 
he has not urged with sufficient frequency and energy the 
importance of Christian practice. He seems himself to 
have foreseen the probability of this reproach, and has 
accordingly provided against the consequence that would 
be drawn from his positions, if taken separately. It would 
be an endless task to cite the passages in which he is con- 
tinually defending his doctrine against these anticipated 
misrepresentations. Among other modes of refutation, he 
sometimes states these false charges in the way of interroga- 
tories: " Do we make void the law through faith? " And 
not contented with the solemn negative, "God forbid!" 
he adds a positive affirmative to the contrary: " Yea we 
establish the law." In a similar manner he is beforehand 
with his censors in denying the expected charge — " Shall 
we continue in sin that grace may abound?" and he obtests 
the same Almighty name to his opposite practice. Read- 
ers, of different views, are without ceasing, on the watch 
to take advantage of all the epistolary writers in this re- 
spect, while the fair method would surely be to form the 
general judgment, from the whole tenor and collective 
spirit of their writings. 

But it has been argued with still greater boldness, that 
St. Paul was not a disciple. — Granted. But his miracu- 
lous conversion entitled him to the confidence, which some 
men more willingly place in those who were. This event 
is substantially recorded by St. Luke: and as if he foresaw 
the distrust which might hereafler arise, he has added to 
his first relation, in the 9th chapter of the Acts, to several 
reports of the same circumstance made by St. Paul him- 
self, first to the Jews, and at\erwards to Festus and Agrippa. 
As Luke has iccorded this nstonisliino; fact throe several 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 



253 



times, we are not left to depend for its truth entirely on St 
Paul's own frequent allusions to it. 

Much suspicionof this great apostle is avowedly ground- 
ed on the remark of St. Peter, who, in adverting to his 
beloved brother Paul, observes, that "in his epistles are 
some things hard to he understood, which they who are 
unstable and unlearned, wrest to their own destruction." 
Here the critic would desire to stop, or rather to garble 
the sentence which adds, " as they do also the other 
Scriptures;" thus casting the accusation, not upon St. 
Paul or "the other Scriptures," but upon the misinter- 
preters of both. But St. Peter farther includes in the same 
passage, that "Paul accounts the long-suffering of God to 
be salvation, according to the wisdom given him.'''' It is 
apparent, therefore, tliat though there may be more dif- 
ficulty, there is not more danger in St. Paul's epistles, than 
in the rest of the sacred volume. Let us also observe 
what is the characters of these subverters of truth, — the 
"unstable" in principle and "unlearned" in doctrine. 
If, then, you feel yourself in danger of being misled, in 
which of these classes will you desire to enrol your name ? 
But it is worthy of observation, that, in this supposed censure 
of St. Peter, we have in reality a most valuable testimony, 
not only to the excellence, but also to the inspiration of 
St. Paul's writings; for he not only ascribes their composi- 
tion to the wisdom given unto him, but puts them on a par 
with the other Scriptures, — a double corroboration of their 
divine character. 

This passage of St. Peter, then, is so far from impugn- 
ing the character of Paul to divine inspiration, that we 
have here the fact itself estabhshed upon the authority of a 
favorite disciple and companion of Jesus. To invalidate 
such a testimony would be no less than to shake the pillars 
of revelation. 

Besides, as an eminent divine has observed, " if St. 
Paul had been only a good man writing under that general 
assistance of the Spirit common to good men, it would be 
ascribing far too much to his compositions to suppose that 
the misunderstanding them could effect the destruction of 
the reader." 

St. Peter says only, that "some things" are difficult; 
but are there not difficulties in every part of divine reve- 
lation, in all the operations of God, in all the dispensations 
of Providence; difliculties insuperable in the natural as 
well as the spiritual world? Difficulties in the formation 
of the human body; in the union of that perishable body 



254 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

with its immortal companion? Is it not then probable that 
some difficulties in various parts of the divine oracles may 
be purposely left for the humiliation of pride, for the exer- 
cise of patience, for the test of submission, for the honor of 
faith ? But allowing that in Paul some things are hard to 
be understood, that is no reason for rejecting such things 
as are easy, for rejecting all things. Why should the 
very large proportion that is clear, be slighted for the very 
small one that is obscure ? Scholars do not so treat an an- 
cient poet or historian. One or two perplexing passages, 
instead of shaking the credit of an author, rather whet the 
critic to a nearer investigation. Even if the local diffi- 
culty should prove invincible, it does not lessen the gen- 
eral interest excited by the work. They who compare 
spiritual things with spiritual, which is the true biblical 
criticism, must perceive that the epistolary writers do not 
more entirely agree with each other, than they agree with 
the doctrines, precepts, and promises delivered on the 
Mount. And as the Sermon on the Mount is an exposition 
of the law of Moses, so the epistles are an exposition of 
the law of Christ. Yet some persons discredit the one, 
from an exclusive veneration for the other. 

But is it not so derogatory from the dignity of our Lord 
to disparage the epistolary discussions written under the 
direction of his Holy Spirit, written with a view to lay 
open in the clearest manner the truths he taught in the 
Gospel, as it would be to depreciate the facts themselves, 
which that Gospel records? 

The more general respect for the Gospels seems partly 
to arise from the circumstance that they contain facts: the 
disregard implied for the epistles from this cause, — that 
they enforce doctrines. The former, the generality feel 
they dare not resist; the latter they think they can oppose 
with more impunity. But of how much less value v/ould be 
the record of these astonishing facts if there were neither 
doctrines to grow out of them, nor precepts to be built 
upon them! And where should we look for the full instruc- 
tion to be deduced from both, but in the commentaries of 
those, to whom the charge of expounding the truths pre- 
viously taught was committed? Our Saviour himself has 
lef*. no written record. As the Father committed all judg- 
ment to the Son, so the Son committed all written instruc- 
tion to his select servants. 

One of these, who had written a Gospel, wrote also three 
epistles. Another carried on the sequel of the evangelical 
history. If these men are wortliy of confidence in one 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 



255 



instance, why not in another.^ Fourteen of the epistles 
were written by one who had an express revelation from 
Heaven; all the rest, the single chapter of St. Jude ex- 
cepted, by the distinguished apostles who were honored 
with the privilege of witnessing the transfiguration of their 
Lord. The three epistles of St. John are only a prolonged 
expression of the devout feelings which breathe through- 
out his narrative, the same lively manifestation of the word 
made flesh, which shines throughout his Gospel. 

In the Gospel, the doctrines and precepts are more dog- 
matically enjoined: in the epistles they are enforced more 
argumentatively. The structure of the epistle addressed 
tolhc Romans is the most systematical. All are equally 
consistent with each other, and with the general tenor of 
the antecedent Scriptures. 

Does it not look as if the marked distinction which some 
readers make between the historical and the epistolary 
portions, arose from a most erroneous belief that they can 
more commodiously reconcile their own views, opinions, 
and practice, with the narratives of the Evangelists, than 
with the keen, penetrating, heart-exploring exposition 
of those very doctrines which are equally found, but not 
equally expanded, in the Gospels? These critical discov- 
erers, however, may rest assured, that there is nothing 
more strong, nothing more pointed, nothing more unequivo- 
cally plain, nothing more awfully severe in any part of St. 
Paul's writings than in the discourses of our Lord himself 
He would indeed have overshot his duty in the same pro- 
portion in which he had outgone his Master. Does Paul 
enjoin any thing more contrary to nature than the excision 
of a right hand, or the plucking out of a right eye ? Does 
Paul any where exhibit a menace, I will not say more 
alarmhig, but so repeatedly alarming, as his Divine Mas 
ter, who expressly, in one chapter only, the 9th of St. 
Mark, three several times denounces eternal punishment 
on the irreclaimably impenitent, awfully marking out not 
only the specific place, but the specific torment, — the un- 
dying worm, and the unquenched fire ? 

No: these scrupulous objectors add nothing to the cha- 
racter of our Lord, by what they subduct from that of his 
apostle. Perfection admits of no improvement; deity of 
no addition. To degrade any portion of the revealed will 
of God, is no proof of reverence for Him whose will is re- 
vealed. But it is preposterous to insinuate, that a regard 
for the epistles is calculated to diminish a regard for the 
Gospels. Where else can wo find such believing, such 



256 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

admiring, sucli adoring views of him whose life the Gospel 
records? Where else are we so grounded in that love which 
passeth knowledge? Where else are we so continually 
taught to be looking unto Jesus? Where else are we so 
powerfully reminded that there is no other name under 
heaven by which we may be saved ? We may as well assert, 
that the existing laws, of which Magna Charta is the origi- 
nal, diminish our reverence for this palladium itself; this 
basis of our political security, as the Gospel is of our moral 
and spiritual privileges. In both cases the derived benefit 
sends us back to the well-head from whence it flows. 

He who professes to read the holy Scriptures for his 
"instruction," should recollect, whenever he is disposed 
to be captious, that they are written also for his correction. 
If we really believe that Christ speaks to us in the Gospels, 
we must believe that he* speaks to us in the epistles also. 
In the one he addresses us in his militant, in the other in 
his glorified character. In one, the divine instructor speaks 
to us on earth; in the other, from heaven. The internal 
wisdom, the divinity of the doctrines, the accordance both 
of doctrine and precept with those delivered by the Saviour 
himself, the powerful and abiding effects which, for near 
two thousand years they have produced, and are actually 
producing, on the hearts and lives of multitudes; the same 
spirit which inspired the writer is still ready to assist the 
reader; all together forming, to every serious inquirer who 
reads them with an humble heart and a docile spirit, irre- 
fragable arguments, unimpeachable evidence, that they 
possess as full a claim to inspiration, and consequently have 
as forcible demand on his belief and obedience, as any of 
the less litigated portions of the book of God. 

Whoever, then, shall sit down to the perusal of these 
epistles without prejudice, will not rise from it without im- 
provement. In any human science we do not lay aside the 
whole, because some parts are more difficult than others* 
we are rather stimulated to the work by the difficulty, than 
deterred from it; because we believe the attainment will re- 
ward the perseverance. There is, indeed, an essential 
difference between a diagram and a doctrine, the appre- 
hension of the one solely depending on the capacity and 
application of the student, while the understanding of the 
other depends not merely on the industry, but on the tem- 
per with which we apply. " If any man lack wisdom, let 
him ask of God, and it shall be given him." 

Let any reader say, if after perusing St. Luke's biogra- 
phical sketch of the Acts of the Apostles, after contemplat- 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 257 

ng the work of the Spirit of God, and its efTects on the 
aves and the preaching of these primitive saints, whether 
he has not attained an additional insight into the genius and 
the results of Christianity since he finished reading the 
evangelist? Let him say further, whether the light of re- 
velation, shining more and more as he advances, does not, 
in his adding the perusal of the epistles to that of the Acts, 
pour in upon his mental eye the full and perfect day ? 

As there was more leisure, as well as a more appropriate 
space, in the epistles for building up Christianity as a sys- 
tem than in the Gospels, so these wise master-builders, 
" building on no other foundation than that which was laid," 
borrowed all the materials for the glorious edifice, from the 
anterior Scriptures. They brought from their precursors 
in the immortal work, the hewn stones with which the spiri- 
tual temple is constructed, and having compacted it with 
that which every portion supplied; squared, rounded, and 
polished the precious mass into perfect form and shape 
into complete beauty and everlasting strength. 



CHAP. IV. 

St. PauVs Faith, a Practical Principle. 

There are some principles and seeds of nature, some 
elements in the character of man, not indisposed for cer- 
tain acts of virtue; we mean virtue as distinguished from 
the principle of pleasing God by the act or sentiment. Some 
persons naturally hate cruelty, others spurn at injustice, 
this man detests covetousness,that abhors oppression. Some 
of these dispositions certain minds find, and others fancy, 
within themselves. But for a man to go entirely out of 
himself, to live upon trust, to renounce all confidence in 
virtues which he possesses, and in actions which he per- 
forms; to cast himself entirely upon another; to seek to be 
justified, not by his own obedience, but by the obedience of 
that other; to look for eternal happiness, not from the merit 
of his own life, but from that of another's death, that death 
the most degrading, after a life the most despised; for all this 
revolution in the mind and heart, there is no foundation, no 
seed, no element in nature; it is foreign to the make of 
man; if nossessed, it i'S bestowed; if felt, it is derived; it 



258 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

is not a production, but an infusion; it is a principle, not 
indigenous, but implanted. The apostle implies that faith 
is not inherent, when he says, "to you it is given to be- 
lieve." 

This superinduced principle is faith, a principle not only 
not inherent in nature, but diametrically contrary to it; a 
principle which takes no root in the soil of the natural heart; 
910 man can say that Jesus is the Lord but by the Holy Ghost. 
Its result is not merely a reform, but a new life, — a life 
governed by the same principle which first communicated it. 

The faith of mere assent, that faith which is purely a 
conviction of the understanding, seldom stirs beyond the 
point at which it first sits down. Being established on the 
same comn;on ground with any scientific truth, or any ac- 
knowledged fact, it is not likely to advance, desiring no- 
thing more than to retain its station among other accepted 
truths, and thus it continues to reside in the intellect alone. 
Though its local existence is allowed, it exhibits none of 
the undoubted signs of life, — activity, motion, growth. 

But that vital faith with which the souls of the Scripture 
saints were so richly imbued, is an animating and pervad- 
ing principle. It spreads and enlarges in its progress. It 
gathers energy as it proceeds. The more advanced are its 
attainments, the more prospective are its views. The 
nearer it approaches to the invisible realities to which it is 
stretching forward, the more their dominion over it increases, 
till it almost makes the future present, and the unseen visi- 
ble. Its light becomes brighter, its flame purer, its aspira- 
tions stronger. Its increasing proximity to its object fills the 
mind, warms the heart, clears the sight, quickens the pace. 

But as faith is of a spiritual nature, it cannot be kept alive 
without spiritual means. It requires for its sustenance ali- 
ment congenial with itself Meditation familiarizes it with 
its object; prayer keeps it close to its end. If thus cherish- 
ed by perpetual exercise, sustained by the habitual con- 
templation of the oracles of God, and watered with the 
dews of his grace, it becomes the pregnant seed of every 
Christian virtue. 

The holy Scriptures have not left this faith to grow 
merely out of the stock of injunction, exhortation or com- 
mand; the inspired writers have not merely expatiated on 
its beauty as a grace, on its necessity as a duty, on its use 
as an instrument, but having infused it as a living and 
governing principle, have fortified their exhortations with 
instances the most striking, have illustrated their defini- 
tions with examples the most imcrcssive. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 259 

The most indefatigable but rational champion of faith i^ 
the apostle Paul. He every where demonstrates, that it 
is not a speculative dogma remaining dormant in the mind, 
but a lively conviction of the power and goodness of God, 
and of his mercy in Christ Jesus; a principle received mto 
the heart, acknowledged by the understanding, and operat- 
ing on the practice. 

St. Paul, among the other sacred authors, seems to con- 
sider that faith is to the soul, what the senses are to the 
body; it is spiritual sight. God is the object, faith is the 
visual ray. Christ is the substance, faith is the hand which 
lays hold on it. By faith the promises are in a manner 
substantiated. Our Saviour does not say " he that believeth 
on me shall have life, but has life." It is not a blessing, 
of which the fruition is wholly reserved for heaven: in a 
spiritual sense, through faith the promise becomes perfor- 
mance, and assurance possession. The immortal seed is 
not only sown, but already sprung up in the soil of the re- 
newed heart. The life of grace becomes the same in 
nature and quality with the life of glory, to which it leads. 
And if in this ungenial climate the plant will not attain its 
maturity, at least its progress intimates that it will termi- 
mate in absolute perfection. 

In that valuable epitome of Old Testament biography, the 
eleventh of Hebrews, Paul defines faith to be a future but 
inalienable possession. He then exhibits the astonishing 
effects of faith displayed in men like ourselves, by mar- 
shalling the worthies who lived under the ancient economy, 
as actual evidences of the verity of this divine principle; 
a principle which he thus, by numberless personifications, 
vindicates from the charge of being nothing more than an 
abstract notion, a visionary, unproductive conceit, or an 
imaginary enthusiastic feeling. He combats this opinion 
by exhibiting characteristically the rich and the abundant 
harvest, springing from this prolific principle. On these 
illustrious examples our limits will not permit us to dwell; 
one or two instances must suffice. 

The patriarchal father of the faithful, against hope be- 
lieved in hope. Natural reliance, reasonable expectation, 
common experience, all were against him. From all these 
impediments he averted his eyes; he raised them to Him 
who had promised. Though the promise was so great as 
to seem incredible, his confidence in Omnipotence over- 
balanced all his apprehensions of any hindrances. With 
the eye of faith he not only saw his offspring as if imme- 
diately granted, but all the myriads which should hereafter 



260 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

descend from him. He saw the great anticipated blessing, 
he saw "the star come out of Jacob," — " the sceptre rise 
out of Israel." Though an exclamation of wonder escaped 
him, it was astonishment untinctured with distrust; he dis- 
regarded second causes; difficulties disappeared, impossi- 
bilities vanished, faith was victorious. 

In this glorious catalogue of those who conquered by 
faith, there is perhaps not one who offers a more appropri- 
ate lesson to the higher classes of society, than the great 
legislator of Israel. Here is a man sitting at ease in his 
possessions, enjoying the sweets of plenty, the dignity of 
rank, the luxuries of literature, the distinction of reputa- 
tion. All these he voluntarily renounces; he foregoes the 
pomps of a court, the advantages of a city, then the most 
learned in the world; he relinquishes the delights of pol- 
ished society; refused to be called the grandson of a potent 
monarch; chooses rather to suffer affliction with his be- 
lieving brethren than to enjoy the temporary pleasures 
which a sinful connivance could have obtained for him: he 
esteems the reproach of Christ, — a Saviour unborn till 
many ages afler, unknown but to the eye of faith, — greater 
than all the treasures of Egypt. The accomplished, the 
learned, and the polite, will be best able to appreciate 
the value of such a sacrifice. Does it not seem to come 
more home to the bosoms of the elegant and opulent; and 
to offer an instruction, more intimate perhaps than is be- 
queathed even by those martial and heroic spirits who sub- 
dued kingdoms, quenched the violence of fire, stopped the 
mouths of lions, and turned to flight the armies of the 
aliens.'' These are instances of faith, which, if more sub- 
lime, are still of less special application. Few are now 
called to these latter sufferings, but many in their measure 
and degree to the other. May they ever bear in mind that 
Moses sustained his trials only as seeing him who is invisi- 
ble! 

To change the heart of a sinner is a higher exertion of 
power than to create a man, or even a world; in the latter 
case, as God made it out of nothing, so there was nothing 
to resist the operation; but in the former he has to encoun- 
ter, not inanity, but repulsion: not an unobtrusive vacuity, 
but a powerful counteraction; and to believe in the divine 
energy which effects this renovation, is a greater exercise of 
faith than to believe that the Spirit of God, moving on the 
face of the waters, was the efficient cause of creation. 

In producing this moral renovation, God has to subdue, 
not only the rebel in arms against the king, but " the little 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 261 

state of man," in arms against himself, fighting against his 
convictions, refusing the redemption wrought for him. 
Almighty goodness has the twofold work of providing par- 
don for offenders, and making them willing to receive it. 
To offer heaven and then to prevail on man to accept it, is 
at once an act of God's omnipotence, and of his mercy. 

Thus faith, which appears to be so easy, is of all things 
the most difficult: — which seems to be so common, is of all 
things most rare. To consider how reluctant the human 
heart adopts this principle; how it evades and stipulates; 
how it procrastinates, even when it does not pointedly re- 
ject; how ingenious its subterfuges, how specious its pre- 
tences; and then to deny that faith is a supernatural gift, 
is to reject the concurring testimony of reason, of Scrip- 
ture, of daily observation, of actual experience. 

St. Paul frequently intimates that faith is never a solita- 
ry attribute: he never separates it from humility, it being 
indeed the parent of that self-abasing grace. He also 
implies that faith is not, as some represent it, a disorderly, 
but a regulating principle, when he speaks of the law of 
faith, of the obedience of faith. Faith and repentance are 
the two qualities inseparably linked in the work of our 
salvation; repentance teaching us to abhor ourselves for 
sin, — faith, to go out of ourselves for righteousness. Ho- 
liness and charity Paul exhibits as its inseparable concomi- 
tants, or rather its necessary productions, their absence 
clearly demonstrating the want of the generating principle. 
May we not hence infer that wherever faith is seen not in 
his company, she is an impostor. 

Of the great " mysteries of godliness " enumerated by 
Paul in his epistle to Timothy, he shows by his arrange- 
ment of the five particulars that compose them, that God 
believed on in the world, is the climax of this astonishing 
process."* And it may be deduced from his general 
writings, that the reason why so many do not more anxiously 
labor for eternal happiness, is, because they do not practi- 
cally believe it. The importance of this fundamental prin- 
ciple is so great, that our spiritual enemy is not so perse- 
veringly bent on deterring us fromthis duty, or detaching us 
from that virtue, as on shaking the foundation of our faith. 
He knows if he can undermine this strong hold, slighter 
impediments will give way. As the first practical instance 
of human rebellion sprung from unbelief, so all subsequent 
obedience, to be available, must spring from faith, 

*^ 1 Tim. Chap. 2. 



262 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

St. Paul shows faith to be a victorious principle. There 
is no other quality which can enable us to overcome the 
world. Faith is the only successful competitor with secu- 
lar allurement. The world offers things great in human 
estimation, but it is the property of this grace to make 
great things look little ; it effects this purpose by reducing 
them to their real dimensions. Nothing but faith can show 
us the emptiness of this world's glory at the best, because 
nothing else views it in perpetual contrast with the blessed- 
ness of heaven ; nothing else can give us such a feeling 
conviction of its brevity at the longest, as that principle 
which habitually measures it with eternity. It holds out 
the only light which shows a Christian that the universe has 
no bribe worth his acceptance, if it must be obtained at 
the price of his conscience, at the risk of his soul. 

St. Paul demonstrates in his own instance, that faith is 
not only a regulating and conquering, but a transforming 
grace. It altered the whole constitution of his mind. It 
did not dry up the tide of his strong affections, but diverted 
them into a channel entirely different. To say all in a word, 
he was a living exemplification of the great Scripture doc- 
trine which he taught — faith made him, emphatically, a new 
man. Thus his life as well as his writings prove that faith 
is an operating principle, a strenuous, influential, vigilant 
grace. If it teach that self-abasement which makes us 
lowly in our own eyes, it communicates that watchfulness 
which preserves us from the contamination of sin, a dread 
of every communication which may pollute. Its disciple 
is active as well as humble. Love is the instrument by 
which it works. But that love of God with which it fills 
the heart, is not maintained there in indolent repose, but 
quickened for the service of man. Genuine faith does not 
infuse a piety which is unprofitable to others, but draws it 
out in incessant desires and aims to promote the general 
good. 

The apostle knew that the faith of many is rather drowsy 
than insincere, rather slothful than hypocritical; that they 
dread the consequences it involves, more than the profession 
it requires. He is therefore always explicit, always mind- 
ful to append the effect to the cause. Hence we hear so 
much from him and the other apostles of i\ve fruits of faith, 
of adding to faith virtue : and it is worthy of remark, that 
in the roll of saints, — those spirits of renown in the ancient 
church, to which allusion has been made, — the faith of 
every one is illustrated, not only by some splendid act, but 
by a life of obedience. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 263 

We may talk as holily as Paul himself, and by a delusion 
not uncommon, by the very holiness of our talk, may de- 
ceive our own souls; but we may rest assured that where 
charity is not the dominant grace, faith is not the inspiring 
principle. Thus, by examining our lives, not our discourse, 
we shall " prove whether we are in faith." 

Though a genuine faith is peremptory in its decision ana 
resolute in its obedience, yet it deeply feels the source 
from whence it is derived. In that memorable instance of 
Abraham's faith, in the very act, instead of valuing him- 
self on the strength of his conviction, he gave glory to God; 
and it is obvious that the reason why faith is selected as 
the prime condition of our justification, is, because it is a 
grace which, beyond all others, gives to God the entire 
glory ; that it is the only attribute which subducts nothing 
for, derives nothing from self. Why are Christian and be" 
liever convertible terms, if this living principle be no ground- 
work of his character. If, then, it supplies his distinguishing 
appellation, should it not be his governing spirit of action! 

Paul is a wonderful instance of the power of this prin- 
ciple. That he should be so entirely carried out of his 
natural character; that he who, by his persecuting spirit, 
courted the favor of the intolerant Sanhedrim, should be 
brought to act in direct opposition to their prejudices, sup- 
ported by no human protection, sustained alone by the 
grace of Him whom he had stoutly opposed ; that his con- 
fidence in God should rise in proportion to his persecutions 
from man; that the whole bent of his soul should be set 
directly contrary to his natural propensities, the whole force 
of his mind and actions be turned in full opposition to his 
temper, education, society, and habits; that not only his 
affections should be diverted into a new channel, but that 
his judgment and understanding should sail in the newly 
directed current; that his bigotry should be transformed 
into candor, his fierceness into gentleness, his untameable 
pride into charity, his intolerance into meekness, — can all 
this be accounted for on any principle inherent in human 
nature, on any principle uninspired by the Spirit of God? 
After this instance,— and, blessed be God, the instance, 
though superior, is not solitary; the change, though mirac- 
ulous in this case, is not less certain in others, — shall the 
doctrine so exemplified continue to be the butt of ridicule? 
While the scoffing infidel virtually puts the renovation of 
the human heart nearly on a footing with the metamorpho- 
ses of Ovid, or the transmigrations of Pythagoras; let not 
the timid Christian be discouraged: let not his faith be 



264 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

shaken, though he may find that the principle to which he 
has been taught to trust his eternal happiness, is considered 
as false by him who has not examined into its truth; that 
the change, of which the sound believer exhibits so convinc- 
ing an evidence, is derided as absurd by the philosophical 
skeptic, treated as chimerical by the superficial reasoner, 
or silently suspected as incredible by the decent moralist. 



CHAP. V. 

The morality of St. Paul. 



Christianity was a second creation. It completed the 
first order of things, and introduced a new one of its own, 
not subversive but perfective of the original. It produced 
an entire revolution in the condition of man, and accom- 
plished a change in the state of the world, which all its 
confederated power, wit, and philosophy, not only could 
not effect, but could not even conceive. It threw such a 
preponderating weight into the scale of morals, by the su- 
perinduction of the new principle of faith in a Redeemer, 
as rendered the hitherto insupportable trials of the afflicted, 
comparatively light. It gave strength to weakness, spirit 
to action, motive to virtue, certainty to doubt, patience to 
suffering, light to darkness, life to death. 

It is a rule of Aristotle, that principles and conclusions 
must always be within the sphere of the same science; that 
error will be inevitable, while men examine the conclu- 
sions of one science by the principles of another. He 
observes, that it is therefore absurd for a mathematician, 
whose conclusions ought to be grounded on demonstration, 
to ground them on the probabilities of the rhetorician. 

May not this rule be transferred from the sciences of the 
schools to the science of morals? Will not the worldly 
moralist err, by drawing his conclusions as to the morality 
of a serious Christian from the principles of the worldly 
school; not being at all able to judge of the principles, of 
which the religious man's morals are the result. 

But in our application of this rule, the converse of the 
proposition will not hold good; for the real Christian, being 
aware of the principles of worldly morality, expects that 
his conclusions should grow out of his principles, and in 
this opinion he seldom errs. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 265 

Christian writings have made innumerable converts to 
morality; but mere moral works have never made one con- 
vert to religion. They do not exhibit an originating prin- 
ciple. Morality is not the instrument but the effect of con- 
version. It cannot say, "Awake thou that sleepest, and 
arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light." But 
when Christ has given life, then morality, by the activity 
of the inspiring motive, gives the surest evidence of reno- 
vated vitality, and exhibits the most unequivocal symptoms, 
not only of spiritual life, but of vigorous health. 

St. Paul is sometimes represented not merely as the 
greatest of the apostles, — this is readily granted^— but vir- 
tually as being almost exclusively great. Is nm this just 
ascription of superior excellence, however, too commonly 
limited to the doctrinal part of his compositions, and is not 
the consummate moral perfection which both his writings 
and his character so consistently display, sometimes, if not 
overlooked, yet placed in the background? 

Though he did more for the moral accomplishment of 
the human character than has ever been effected by any 
other man; though belabored more abundantly than any 
other writer, to promote practical religion; yet polemical 
divinity on the one side, is too much disposed to claim him 
as her immediate champion; and then in order to make 
good her claim on the other, to assign to him a subordinate 
station in the ranks of sacred and moral writers. 

Now the fact is, that all the prophets and apostles, ag- 
gregately, are not so abundant in ethical instruction, nor 
is the detail of moral conduct in any of them so minutely 
unfolded, or so widely ramified, as in the works of St. 
Paul. We may indeed, venture to assert, that David and 
our apostle are almost the only Scripture characters, of 
whom we have such full-length pictures. And for this 
reason ; what was left imperfect in their delineation by their 
respective historians, is completely filled up by their own 
compositions. The narratives may be said to exhibit their 
shape and features; their own writings have added the 
grace of countenance, the force of expression, and the 
warmth of coloring. 

It furnishes a complete answer to those who oppose the 
doctrines of grace, on the supposed ground of their encour- 
aging sin; that, as there never was a man who expanded 
and illustrated those doctrines so fully, so there never was 
one whose character and compositions exhibit a more con- 
sistent and high-toned morality 

12 



266 ESSAY OiN ST. PAUL. 

Like his sacred precursors, Paul always equally main 
tains the freeness of grace, and the necessity of holiness. 
The character of faith is not lowered by insisting that holy 
practice, which is nothing more than the exercises and 
consequences of faith, is the signs of its reality. Action, 
and motion, and speech, are not life, but they are the most 
unequivocal signs of life. Life evidences itself in them; 
and we do not disparage the principle, when we infer its 
effects, and estimate their value. 

We sometimes hear in conversation St. James set up as 
the champion of moral virtue against St. Paul, the bold as- 
serter of doctrines. For these two eminent apostles, there 
has beenfhvented an opposition, which, as it never existed 
in their minds, so it cannot be traced in their writings. 
Without detracting from the perfect ethics of St. James, 
may we not be allowed to insist, that Paul, his coadjutor, 
not his rival, is equally zealous in the inculcation of prac- 
tice; only running it up more uniformly into its principle; 
descending more deeply into its radical stock, connecting 
it more invariably with its motive. It is worth observing, 
in confirmation of their similarity of views, and perfect 
agreement in sentiment, that St. Paul and St. James derive 
their instance of the principle for which each is contending, 
from the same example, the Patriarch Abraham. 

So far is Paul from undervaluing virtue, that he express- 
ly declares " that God will render to every man according 
to his deeds." So peremptory on this head, that he not 
only directs men to do good works, but to "maintain" 
them; so desirous to establish the act into a habit, that 
they must not only perform them, but be " careful" in the 
performance; so far from thinking, that, after his conver- 
sion, man was to be an inactive recipient of grace, that he 
not only enjoins us to be " always abounding in the work 
of the Lord," but assigns the very reason for it — the recep- 
tion of grace; " forasmuch as ye know that your labor will 
not be in vain in the Lord." He repeatedly presses on 
them perseverance, and perseverance is no fanatical symp- 
tom. His documents enforce a religion equable, consist- 
ent, progressive. This mode of instruction is no fruit of a 
heated brain, no child of emotion, no vapor of impulse, 
no effect of fancy. 

Not to instance those ample tables of Christian practice, 
the twelfth of Romans, the fifth of Thessalonians, the 
whole Epistle of Titus, and the two last chapters to the 
Ephesians, — every part of his writings either deduces holy 
practice from some corresponding principle; or else, after 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 267 

he has been enforcing a system of doctrine, heliabitually 
infers a system of morals growing out of it, inseparable 
from it. Indeed, throughout the whole of the last named 
Epistle, into which the very essence of Gospel doctrines is 
infused and compressed, all the social, personal, and rela- 
tive duties are specifically detailed and enjoined: — the 
affection of husbands, the submission of wives, the tender- 
ness of parents, the obedience of children, the subordina- 
tion and fidelity of servants, economy of time, hands to be 
kept from stealing, " a tongue from evil speaking," a body 
maintained in "temperance, soberness, and chastity;" a 
guarded conversation, a gravity of carriage; the very de- 
cencies of life are all proposed with a minuteftess which 
will scarcely bear a comparison but with his own catalogue 
of virtues in a kindred Epistle: "Whatsoever things are 
true, honest, just, pure, lovely, and of good report; if there 
be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these 
things." 

So far from seeking to subvert the moral law, he takes 
unwearied pains to confirm it: but he fixes it on its true 
basis; while he denies its justifying power, he " establish- 
es" its importance as a rule. He vindicates its value, not 
as a covenant for salvation, but as a measure of conduct. 
In no instance, however light, does he deny the obliga- 
tion of believers to maintain a steadfast adherence to it, 
or discountenance, a minute observance of it. He not 
only shows that every sin is to be abandoned, but the con- 
trary virtue adopted: and, though one of the fathers ob- 
serves, that " a vice sometimes gives place where a virtue 
does not take it," yet the only certain symptom of the ex- 
pulsion of a bad quality is the substitution of its opposite. 
And no man ever more forcibly condemned an empty pro- 
fession than Paul: no one more severely reprobated a dead 
faith, no one more unequivocally commended "not the 
hearers, but the doers of the law." 

He proves unanswerably that the doctrine of grace is so 
far from being hostile to sound practice, that it is the only 
source from which all legitimate virtue springs; — so far 
from slackening diligence, that it gives vigor to its activ- 
ity; — so far from making vigilance superfluous, that its 
constant language is, Watch; — so far from limiting to a 
favored few the exhortation, that it makes it universal; 
"What I say unto you, I say unto all — watch!" 

In directing his converts to virtuous deeds, he never 
fails to include the spirit in the act; — they must be ready 
to distribute, willing to comuumicate. He never fails to 



268 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

show, that the characteristic and essence of all goodness 
is the desire of pleasing God. In other words, the action 
must be the fruit of love to Him. Qualities merely amiable 
are originally without that principle, and possessed even 
by animals, and possessed in a very high degree, as affec- 
tion for their offspring, fidelity to their masters, gratitude 
for notice. 

Paul, like his blessed Lord, is never so emphatically in- 
dignant against any of the signs of hypocrisy in professors, 
as against sinful practice. Like Him he is frequent in the 
enumeration of vices which he solemnly proclaims amount 
to an exclusion from heaven. Holy practice is indeed the 
only sign to the world of the sincerity of a Christian, and 
in a good measure is a sign to himself It is the principal 
evidence which will regulate the retributive sentence at 
the last day. — Paul therefore calls that day " the revelation 
of the righteous judgment of God." He does not call it 
the day of his forming the judgment, but of his declaring 
it. God, who witnessed the act when it was done, and the 
motive which impelled it, wants himself no such evidence 
to assist his decision, but he uses it to manifest to men and 
angels his own strict justice. "In that awful day," says 
an eminent divine, "the judge will not examine men as to 
their experiences, he will not set every one to tell the 
story of his conversion, but he will bring forth his works."* 

How acceptable, even in the ears of the most thought- 
less, would that proclamation sound, the grace of God 
hringeth salvation, were it unaccompanied by the moral 
power ascribed to it, that of teaching us to deny our sen- 
sual appetites! How many would give a cheap assent to 
the principle, were it not clogged with such an encumber- 
ing consequence. Those who insist, that our salvation is 
effected by works, would gladly adopt faith as a speculative 
notion, instead of the inconvenient evidences which this 
self-denying grace involves. 

One would imagine, that some who so loudly insist that 
we shall be saved by works, must mean works of superero- 
gation, and that they depended for salvation on the transfer 
of the superfluity of the merits of others to themselves; for 
it is remarkable, that they trust their future bhss most con- 
fidently to good works, who have the slenderest portion of 
their own to produce. 

The apostle is perpetually combating the fatal doctrine 
of those who insinuate that the freedom of the Gospel is a 
freedom from moral restraint. He describes it, indeed, as 

*Edwarcls on Religious Affections 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 26& 

a deliverance from the sentence, but not from the precepts, 
of the law. No one ever more unremittingly opposed 
those who represent the constant inculcation of holy prac- 
tice as an infringement of the liberty of a Christian. He 
perpetually demonstrates the necessity of a determinate 
rule of duty, without which even that love, which is some- 
times pleaded as an apology for the neglect of duty, — that 
love, which is, indeed, the genuine source of all acceptable 
performance, — might be lowered into a vagrant, indefinite, 
disorderly principle. A religion, destitute of faith and 
love, is not the religion of Christ: a religion which fur- 
nishes no certain standard of conduct, is not the religion 
of the Gospel. 

St. Paul accordingly animadverts severely on those, who 
presume to convert the liberty wherewith Christ has made 
us free, into a pretence for licentious conduct. He strenu- 
ously refutes the charge, by intimating, that the new cove- 
nant enforces holiness of life, even more than the old, and 
enforces it on more engaging motives. The law deters from 
sin by denunciations: the Gospel invites to goodness by the 
most winning persuasions; God so loved the world, that he 
gave his Son to save it. The law shows man the danger 
of sin, and pronounces its punishment: the Gospel performs 
the higher act of love, it delivers him from its power. It is 
a quality ascribed to the love of Christ, that it " constrain- 
eth;" it compels us, as it were, to be compassionate. 
What can make us so tender to others as the experience 
of God's goodness to ourselves? Who is so ready to show 
mercy as he who has received it.'' 

St. Paul derives all duties from this love of God in Christ 
as their foundation. All the motives to right action, all the 
arguments for holiness of life, are drawn from this source; 
all the lines of duty converge to this centre. If Paul cen- 
sures, he points to this only spring of hope; if he laments, 
he turns to this only true consolation; if he insists that the 
grace of God hath appeared, he points to its practical object, 
"teaching us to live soberly, righteously, and godly." 
When he determines to know nothing but his Saviour, and 
even Him under the degrading circumstance of crucifixion, 
he includes in that knowledge all the religious and moral 
benefits of which it is susceptible. 

They who contend that the Gospel is only a scheme of 
morals, struggle hard to keep down the compact to their 
own depressed standard. They will not allow of a grain 
or a scruple " beyond the bond," but insist, that whatever 
is not specificallv commanded, is superfluous; what is above 



270 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

their own pitch is unnecessary. If they allow that it is sub- 
ime, they insist that it is impracticable. If they allow that 
the love, peace and joy of the apostle, are desirable, they 
do not desire them asjruits of the spirit, as signs of accep- 
tance. The interior principle, those views which take in 
the very depths of the heart, as well as the surface of life, 
— any practical use of these penetrating truths, they consid- 
er as something which the enthusiastic reader does not find, 
but make. 

The mere social and political virtues are made for this 
world. Here they have their origin, their use, and their 
reward. All the motives to various practice, not derived 
from the hope of future blessedness, will be inefficient. 
There is a powerful obligation to " perfect holiness" to those 
who do not perfect it in the fear "of God." Grace will 
not thrive abundantly in that heart which does not believe 
it to be the seed of glory. 

The moralist of our apostle is not merely a man possess- 
ed of agreeable qualities, of some social and civil virtues, 
of generosity and good nature, qualities excellent as far as 
they go, and which, as a means to the good order of society, 
can scarcely be too much valued; but these qualities a 
man may possess, without having the love of God shed 
abroad in his heart, without desiring " to live for him who 
died for him." Such qualities will gain him credit, but 
that very credit may endanger his salvation, if worldly es- 
teem make him rest satisfied, without the " honor which 
Cometh from God." The purity, sublimity, and consistency 
of St. Paul's requirements, every where manifest that his 
moral man is not merely a disciple of Antoninus or Epicte- 
tus, but a liege subject of the Messiah's spiritual kingdom 

Paul shows, that the humbling doctrines of the cross are 
so far from lowering the tone of moral obligation, that they 
raise the standard of practical virtue to an elevation totally 
unknown under any other mode of instruction. But there 
is a tendency in the heart of man, in his natural state, to 
rebel against these doctrines, even while he professes him- 
self an advocate for virtue; to set up the virtue which he 
presumes that he possesses, against religion, to which he 
is chiefly hostile for the very elevation which it gives to 
virtue: this, more than the doctrines, and even than the 
mysteries of revelation, is the real cause of his hostility. 

We have known persons, when pressed on the peculiar 
doctrines of the Gospel, think to get rid of the argument, 
by declaring that they did not pretend to understand St. 
Paul; that, for their part, they were quite satisfied with 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 271 

Micah's religion: "To do justly, love mercy, and walk 
humbly with thy God," was enough for them. In what 
they call this comfortable, and reasonable, and practicable 
scheme of religion, they are little aware what strictness is 
involved, what integrity, what charity, what holiness. They 
little think how nearly the prophet's religion approached 
that of the apostle. There is in fact no difference between 
them, but such as necessarily arises out of the two dispen- 
sations under which they lived. To walk humbly with 
God, we must believe in the revelation of his Son, and con- 
sequently adopt the principle he enjoins: we must adopt 
every doctrine, and believe every mystery. To walk hum- 
bly with God, is a principle which stretches to the bounds 
of the v.'hole universe of revelation. 

More men are indebted to Christianity for their morality, 
than are willing to confess the obligation. It communicates 
a secret and unacknowledged infection. Living under a 
public recognition of Christianity, under Christian laws, 
and in Christian society, causes many a proud heart to be- 
lieve more than it cares to own, and to do more good than 
the man is willing to ascribe to the faith which, if it does 
not actually influence his mind, has made right actions so 
common, that not to do them is dishonorable. Others, who 
do not appear to live under the direct illumination of the 
Gospel, have yet the benefit of its refracted rays, which, if 
the conveyance is too imperfect to communicate religious 
warmth, yet diffuses sufficient light to point the way to many 
moral duties. 

We are apt to call men good, because they are without 
certain bad qualities. But this is not only not knowing re- 
ligion, it is not knowing human nature. All vices are not 
affinities; of course the very indulgence of one vice is not 
seldom an exclusion of another, as covetousness avoids 
profligacy, and ambition expels indolence; but though they 
are natural antipathies, they all spring from the same source ; 
the same fountain of corrupt nature feeds both. 

Nor does the goodness of St. Paul's moral man consist 
merely in abstaining from wicked actions; nor merely in 
filling the external duties of his profession. While he is 
active in business, he must be fervent in spirit. While 
transacting the ordinary affairs of life, he must be serving 
the Lord. In worldly moralists, the excessive pursuit of 
business, as v/ell as of pleasure, leaves a clinging to it in 
the thouglits, and almost exclusive attachment to it in the 
heart, long after the actual engagement has ceased, the 
hankering mind continues to act over again the scenes of 
its interest, of its ambition, or of its ainuscmont. 



212 ESSAY 0:V ST. PAUL 

Again, the worldly moralist, while he practises some vir- 
tues, is indifferent to others. He is temperate, perhaps, 
but he is ambitious. He is diligent, but he is sordid. 
Whereas Christian morality as taught by St. Paul, hangs 
as it were in clusters; every virtue issuing from his princi- 
ples touches on other virtues at so many points, that no man 
possesses one in perfection who does not possess many, 
who does not at least desire to possess all; while the divine 
spirit, pervading like the sap every fibre of the soul, 
strengthens the connection of its graces, and infuses holy 
aims into the whole character. 

We have employed the term morality in compliance with 
common usage; but adopted in the worldly sense, it gives 
but an imperfect idea of the apostle's meaning. His pre- 
ceptive passages are encircled with a kind of glory; they 
are illuminated with a beam from heaven; they proceed 
from the Spirit of God, are produced by faith in him. There 
is every where that beautiful intermixture of motive and 
action, that union of the cause and the effect, the faith and 
its fruits, that uniform balance of the principle and the 
produce, which render these epistles an exhaustless treasury 
of practical wisdom, as well as an imperishable record of 
divine grace. 

St. Paul every where runs up the stream to the spring. 
The government he inculcates is spiritual. Not content to 
recommend the obedience of the life, he brings the very 
thoughts and desires under control. He traces up the act 
to the temper which produces it. He dwells more on the 
spirit of the world than on its actual offences. He knew 
that many would reprobate bad actions, who do not seek that 
spirit which would prevent their generating. He knew that 
men judge soundly enough on questions in which they have 
no bias from interest or appetite. For one who believes 
that to be " carnally-minded is death," twenty believe 
in the miraculous gift of tongues, and even in the doctrine 
of the trinity, because they fancy, that neither of these 
trenches on their purse, or their pleasure, or their vain 
projects. 

What Paul calls " doing by nature the things contained 
in the law," and " a man being a law unto himself," we 
frequently see illustrated in some well bred and highly cul- 
tivated minds. They have a strong sense of honor and 
integrity; to this sense their credit and their comfort require 
they should live up. The natural make of their mind, per- 
haps, is liberal; from education they have imbibed noble 
sentiments: they have adopted a system of equity which 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 273 

they would think it dishonorable to violate ; they are gene- 
rous and humane; but in matters of self-indulgence they are 
not scrupulous; in subduing their inclinations, in abstinence 

from some one governing desire or impetuous appetite, 

in all this they come short; to all this their rule does not 
extend. Their conduct, therefore, though amiable, and use- 
ful, and creditable, yet is not the "obedience of faith;" 
these good qualities might have been exercised, had Chris- 
tianity never existed; this is not bringing the practice, much 
less the thoughts, into the captivity of Christ. The man is a 
law unto himself, and acts consistently enough with this 
self-imposed legislation. 

Even if no religion had ever existed, if a deity did not 
exist, — for the reference is not to religion, not to the will 
of the deity, — such morahty would be acceptable to society, 
because to society it is profitable. But how can any action 
be pleasing to God, in which there is no purpose of blessing 
him .? How can any conduct be acceptable to God, to whom 
it renders no homage, to whom it gives no glory? 

Scripture abounds with every motive to obedience, both 
rational and spiritual. But it would achieve but half its 
work, had it stopped there. As peaceable creatures, we re- 
quire not only inducements to obedience, but a heart, and 
a power, and a will to obey; assistance is as necessary as 
motives; power as indispensable as precept; — all which 
requisites are not only promised by the word, but conferred 
by the Spirit of God. 



CHAP. VI. 

The Disinterestedness of St. Paul. 

The perfection of the Christian character does not so 
much consist in this excellence, or that talent, or the other 
virtue; in the performance of some right action, or the ab- 
stinence from some wrong one, as in the determination oj 
the whole soul for God. This generous surrender of self, 
whether of the sensual or of the intellectual self is the un- 
equivocal test of a heart consecrated by man to his Maker 
He has no by-ends, no secret re erves. His intention is 
single, his way is straight forward; he keeps his end in view 
without deflection, and he pursues it without weariness 



274 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

St. Paul and his associates were the first moral in- 
structers who preached not themselves. Perhaps there is 
scarcely a more striking proof of the grandeur of his spirit, 
than his indifference to popularity. This is an elevation of 
character, which not only no Pagan sage has reached, but 
which not every Christian teacher has been found to attain. 

This successful apostle was so far from placing himself 
at the head of a sect, that he took pains to avoid it. In 
some subsequent instructers, this vanity was probably the 
first seed of heresy; the sound of Ebionites and Marcionites 
would as much gratify the ear of the founders, as bringing 
over proselytes to their opinions would delight their feel- 
ings. Paul would have rejected with horror any such dis- 
tinction. He who earnestly sought to glorify his Master, 
would naturally abase himself. With a holy indignation he 
asks, " What then is Paul, and what is Apollos, but minis- 
ters by whom ye believed?" He points out to them the 
littleness of such exclusive fondness in men, who had such 
great objects in view — " overvalue not Paul or Apollos as 
yours, /or all things are yours. '^ 

It is impossible not to stop a moment, in order to notice 
the fine structure of the period to which these words are an 
introduction. It would be difficult to find a more finished 
climax: "Let no man glory in men; for all things are 
yours, whether Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas; or the world, 
or life, or death; or things present or things to come; all 
are yours, and you are Christ's and Christ is God's."* 

Knowing the proneness of human nature to this party 
spirit, he takes pains to prevent excessive individual at- 
tachments. There is no instance of a man so distinguish- 
ed, so little distinguishing himself He chooses to merge 
himself in the general cause, to sink himself in the mass of 
faithful ministers. — This is particularly evident in the be- 
ginning of many of his Epistles, by his humility in attaching, 
to his own, some name of far inferior note, as his associate in 
the work; — "Paul and Sosthenes" — " Paul and Sylvanus," 
— " Timotheus our brother;" — and in writing to the Thes- 
salonians, he connects both the latter names with his own. 

He labored to make the people bear in mind that the 
apostles were the disseminators, not the authors, of the 
faith which they preached. Miraculous as his conversion 
had been, superior as were his endowments, favored as he 
was by Divine inspiration, he not only did not assume, but 
he rejected, any distinction, and only included himself 

* I Corinth, iii. 22. 



KSSAY ON ST. PAUL. 275 

among the teachers of their common Christianity. Thus 
he bequeathed to his successors a standing pattern of hu- 
mihty, and of the duty of ascribing their talents, their 
appHcation, and their success, to him, from whom whatever 
advantages they possess, are derived. 

St. Paul did not rank, on the one hand, with those Kberal 
modern philosophers, who assert that virtue is its own 
reward; nor on the other, with those abstracted mystics, 
who profess an unnatural disinterestedness, and a superhu- 
man disdain of any recompense but that which they find 
in the pure love of God. He was not above accepting 
heaven, not for any works of righteousness which he had 
done, but as the free gift of God through the righteousness 
that had been wrought for him. He was not too proud and 
independent to confess, that the nearness of heavenly glory 
was with him a most animating principle. 

This hope cheered his fainting spirit; this prospect not 
only regulated, but almost annihilated his sense of suffering. 
Invisible things were made so clear to the eye of faith; re- 
mote things were brought so near to one, \^ho always kept 
up in his mind a comparative estimate of the brevity of this 
afflicted life, and the duration of eternal happiness; faith 
so made the future present; love so made the labor light; 
the earnest of the Spirit was given him in such a measure; 
— that mortality seemed, even here, to be swallowed up of 
life. His full belief in the immediate presence of God, in 
that world in which he was assured, that light, purity, 
holiness, and happiness, would be enjoyed in their most 
consummate perfection, not only sustained his hope, but 
exhilarated his heart. 

If it does not support us under our inferior trials in the 
same manner, it is because we have rather a nominal than 
a practical faith, rather an assenting than an obeying con- 
viction; it is because our eyes are not fixed on the same 
objects, nor our hearts warmed with the same affections; it 
is because our attention is directed so sparingly to that 
Being, and that state, to which his was supremely devoted. 
Ought we to complain, that we enjoy not the same supports, 
nor the same consolations, while we do not put ourselves 
in the same way to obtain them.'' 

But though Paul was no disciple of that metaphysical 
theology, which makes such untaught distinctions, as to 
separate our love of God from any regard to our own be- 
atitude; though he might have been considered a selfish 
man, by either of the classes to whom allusion has been 
made, yet true disinterestedness was eminently his charac- 



276 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

teristic. Another instance of a human being so entirely 
devoid of selfishness, one who never took his own ease, or 
advantage, or safety, or credit, into the account, cannot be 
found. If he considered his own sufferings, he considered 
them for the sake of his friends. "Whether we be afflict- 
ed, it is for your consolation and salvation." The only joy 
he seemed to derive, when he was " pressed out of meas- 
ure, above strength," was, that others might be comforted 
and encouraged by his sufferings. So also of his consola- 
tions; the principal joy which he derived from them was, 
that others might be animated by them. This anxiety for the 
proficiency of his converts, in preference to his own safety; 
his disposition to regard every object in due subjection to 
the great design of his ministry; his humble, vigilant care, 
while exulting in the hope of an eternal crown, that he 
might "not himself be cast away;" — form, in combination 
with the rest of his conduct, a character which we must 
allow has not only no superior, but no parallel. 

The union of generosity and self-denial, — and without 
the one the other is imperfect, — was peculiarly exemplified 
in our apostle. — His high-minded independence on man, 
had nothing of the monkish pride of poverty, for he knew 
"how to abound;" nor was it the worldly pusillanimous 
dread of it, for he " knew how to want." 

In vindicating the right of the ecclesiastical body to an 
equitable provision, as a just requital of their labors, he 
nobly renounces all claim to any participation for himself. 
— " / have used none of these things!'' This wise and digni- 
fied abstinence in the original formation of a church, which 
must be founded, before provision can be made for its con- 
tinuance, while it maintained the dignity of his own disin- 
terestedness, enabled him with the better grace, and more 
powerful effect, to plead the legitimate claims of her minis- 
ters; and to insist, that it was the duty of the people to 
supply their temporal things to those from whom they 
received their spiritual things. While he himself refused 
to claim them, lest it should be made a pretence for hinder- 
ing the Gospel, he yet looked forward with an eye of kind- 
ness and justice, in thus stipulating, as it were, for the 
comfort of the Christian ministers to the end of the world. 

In a long expostulatory argument, illustrated by a varie- 
ty of analogous instances, he shows the propriety of a pro- 
vision being made for those who dedicated themselves to 
the spiritual instruction of others: — the warrior engaged in 
the defence of his country is supported at the public ex- 
pense; the planter by the produce of his vineyard; the 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 277 

reeder of a flock by the milk of his flock ; the agriculturist 
by the profits of his plough. 

He strengthens his argument by an allusion to a humane 
practice in the old law, by which even the ox was allowed 
to participate in that plenty which his labor assisted to pro- 
cure; then, by a sudden generous interjection, — "Doth 
God take care for oxen?" he intimates that this provision 
of mercy for the beast, was emblematical of this justice, — 
for it scarcely amounted to mercy, — which ought to secure 
to every minister a fair remuneration for the sacrifice he 
has made of ease and profit, by addicting himself to the 
service of the altar. 

After, however, having declared that he renounced all 
reward for himself, fearing that this assurance might be 
construed into an insinuation of his wish to receive the 
emolument which he pretended to refuse, with a noble dis- 
dain of so mean an expedient, he protests that it would be 
better for him to die of want, rather than, by receiving 
pecuniary recompense, to rob himself of his honest claim 
to the consciousness of disinterested services. 

St. Paul's conduct in these instances affords something of 
the same fine climax in action, with that which Jesus express- 
ed in words, when he sent to the Baptist the proofs of his 
divinity. After enumerating his miracles of love, he closes 
with declaring, as the highest possible instance of that love, 
that the Gospel was preached — but to what class } to the poor! 
From the words of Christ, turn to the lite of Paul. The 
persecution of his enemies, the fatigue of his travels, the 
falsehood of his brethren, the labor of instructing so many 
nations, of converting so many cities, of founding so many 
churches, — what is his relaxation from such labors, what 
his refreshment from such perils, what his descent from 
such heights? — Working with his own hands for his daily 
bread, and for the relief of the poor. The profane critic 
may call this the art of sinking, the Christian will deem it 
the noblest point of elevation. Might not the apostle well 
say, "Be ye followers of me, as I am of Christ?" 

How has the world stood in just admiration of the gen- 
erous conduct of Cincinnatus! Tired with the fatigues of 
war, and satiated with the glories of conquest, he very 
rationally, and (as he refused all reward) it must be owned 
very disinterestedly, withdrew to his country-house, from 
which he had been reluctantly torn. He withdrev/ to enjoy. 
in the bosom of his family, the advantages of agriculture and 
the pleasures of retirement. To such a retreat would Paul 
have flown with delight, had he not known that, for him it 



278 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL 

was not a duty. He, unlike the dictator, had no intervals 
of unmolested claim; it was not in the quiet of repose, but 
in the very midst of perils and of persecutions, that he 
labored for his own support. 

It cannot be denied, that his whole consistent practice 
furnished this sure criterion of a faithful minister, — that he 
enjoined no self-denial, preached no mortification, recom- 
mended no exertion to others, of which he gave not him- 
self a shining example. While he pointed out to his asso- 
ciates the duty of " approving themselves ministers of God 
in afflictions, in necessities, in distresses," he was not him- 
self hjing on a bed of roses ; he was not making light of 
sorrows, of which he was not personally partaking; he 
did not deal out orders for the patient endurance of suffer- 
ings, the bitterness of which he had not tasted. He had 
largely shared in the stripes and imprisonments which it 
was possible some of his followers might be speedily called 
to endure. 

At the same time, he furnishes them with cautions drawn 
from his own invariable prudence, when he exhorted them 
to give no offence. This was not altogether to avoid per- 
sonal discredit, though that should be carefully guarded 
against, so much as to preserve the character of religion 
itself from the obloquy she would sustain from the faults of 
her disciples. His great object why the ministry should 
not be blamed, was because he knew how ineffectual all 
teaching would be rendered, if the teacher committed the 
faults he reprehended, or even exercised a religious voca- 
tion in an imprudent manner. 

In another place, after recapitulating some of the hard- 
ships which himself and his companions were suffering, up 
to the very moment when he was describing them, — their 
hunger and thirst, their nakedness and buffeting, deprived 
of domestic comforts, destitute of a settled home ; having 
shown what was their treatment, he proceeds to show what 
was their temper under it: — Being reviled, we bless; being 
persecuted, we suffer it; being defamed, we entreat. This is 
indeed practical Christianity! 

After enumerating the trials to which they may be ex- 
posed, he sets over against them a catalogue of the quali- 
ties by which they should be distinguished, — pureness, 
knowledge, kindness; thus encouraging them to patience by 
the integrity of their motives; and to the adornment of 
their calling, by the skilfulness and affection with which 
they exercised it. He tempers their sorrows and difficul- 
ties, by interspersing with tlie recital those divine consola- 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL 



279 



tions, from which alone genuine cheerfulness can be de- 
rived. 

In this enumeration he had not to rack his mvention for 
precedents ; he had only to make a transcript of the state 
of his own mind, and the tenor of his own practice, to 
give them a complete delineation of the ministerial char- 
acter. While he encourages them to perseverance by the 
success which might attend their labors, he prepares them 
also to expect reproach; mingling good and evil report as 
the probable lot of every devoted servant of Christ. 

When he was setting out from Ephesus for Jerusalem, 
" bound in the spirit, not knowing the things that should 
befall him," the indefinite yet certain anticipation of ca- 
lamity which he expressed, might have been interpreted 
into the pusillanimous forebodings of his own apprehensive 
mind: he guards against this suspicion by informing us, it 
was by the unerring inspiration of the Holy Ghost, he 
was assured, " that bonds and afflictions awaited him in 
every city;" so that he knew infallibly, wherever he went, 
it was only a change of place, not of peril. Yet was this 
conviction so far from arresting his purpose, so far from 
inclining him to hesitate, or not to persist in the path of 
duty because it was the path of danger, that his mighty 
faith converted duty into choice, elevated duty into joy. 
Hear his triumphant proclamation: " But none of these 
things move me, neither count I my life dear, so that I 
may finish my course with joy, and the ministry which I 
have received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the Gospel of 
the grace of God." 

It is not the nature of Christianity to convert a man of 
sense into a driveller; if it make him self-abased in the 
sight of God, and in his own eyes, it does not oblige him 
to a renunciation of his just claims in civil society, nor to 
a base abjection in the sight of men. He is not desirous 
of honors which do not belong to him, but he does not 
despise those to which he has a lav/ful claim. The char- 
acter of Paul, like the religion he taught, is manly, ra- 
tional, ingenuous. 

This combination of dignity with humility, he uniformly 
presents to us. He always humbles, but never disparages 
himself He, who on one occasion was " the least of all 
gaints," was, on another, " not a whit behind the chiefest of 
them." He, that was " not worthy to be called an apostle," 
would yet magnify his apostleship. He who would pa- 
tiently endure injury and reproach, yet refused to be 
scourged contrary to law. He, who was illegally impris- 



280 ESSAY O.N ST. PAUL 

oaed at Philippi, acceptetl not the deliverance till tli« 
magistrates themselves came in person to release him, — a 
resolution not only due to his own innocence, but probably 
intended also to render the magistrates iUraid ot' proceed- 
ing unjustly against other Christians. He, who could 
submit to live by the labor ot" his own hands, and to re- 
ceive charity in his sickness, would vindicate his civil title 
to rt^spect, and not only urge his right ot" Roman citizen- 
ship, but press his peculiar ground ot" superiority over the 
officer who would have contended with him. by declaring 
that his own t"reedom was not a purchase, but an inherit- 
ance. He who determined to know nothing but *' Jesus 
Christ, and him crucitied," could assert, when it became 
proper, his liberal education under a master in Israel. 
He, who was now lying at the toot ot" the cross, avowed 
that he had been bred at the t"eet ot" Gamaliel. He. who 
was beating down the pride ot" ** gitts *' in the assuming 
Corinthians, scrupled not to declare his own superiority in 
this very article, yet with an exclusive ascription ot" the 
git^ to the Giver. '* I thimk my God, that 1 speak with 
more tongues than you all. '♦ 

To those who understand what Bishop Horseley calls 
'• the pamdoxesot" Christianity," it will be perfectly intelli- 
gible, that one. who was so teelingly alive to the percep- 
tion ot" sin. as to deplore that "when he would do good, 
evil was present with him,'' could also, in the integrity ot" 
his heart, boldly appeal to the Thessalonians tor the purity 
ot' his own conduct, and that ot" his companions — *' you 
know how hoiily, and justly, and unblameably we have lived 
among you." 

He >vas aware that contentions about practices and opi- 
nions comparatively insignificant, were generally the most 
vehemently imd uncharitably carried on by men who are 
the mi^st cold and indifi'erent in the defence of truths of 
the most awtiil moment. Inflexible himself in every thing 
which was of vital unportance. yet accommodating in trivial 
matters, about which men of narrow views pertinaciously 
contend, he shaped the course of his usetulness to the 
winding current of lit'e. and the flexure of circumstances; 
and was ever on the watch to see how, by giving way in 
things indifl'erent. he might gain men to the great cause 
which he lived only to promote. 

Xever was any sentiment more completely perverted, 
than that which is so expressive of the condescension that 
distinguishes his character. — / atn ali things to all mtH 

*Act<. ch 16 



KSSAV ON ST. PAUL. 281 

Tlie latitudinariau in principle or in morals, wlio would not 
consider Paul's authority as paramount on any other occa- 
sion, eagerly pleads this text to justity his own accommo- 
dation to every thing that is tempting in interest, or seduc- 
tive in appetite. This sentiment, which proceeded from 
a candor the most amiable, was, in the apostle, always 
governed by an integrity the most unbending. 

To what purpose did he make use of this maxim.' " That 
he might by all means save some." Let those who justify 
its adoption by the sanction of Paul, employ it to the same 
end to which he employed it. But is it' not frequently 
carried to a conceding length, to which he would never 
have carried it, to answer any purpose; and is not the end 
itself often such as he would not have sought, even by the 
best means? To the perversion of this sentiment the 

fashionable doctrine of expediency may be imputed, a 

doctrine not more corrupt in its principle, and dangerous in 
its results, than opposite to the whole bent and current of 
the apostle's views, as developed in his writings and in his 
practice. 

That hollow maxim, of doing evil that good may come, 
had indeed been adopted by some of the wisest Pagan legis- 
lators. Not only the prudent Xuma pretended to Divine 
communications with his inspiring goddess, in order that 
his laws might be received with more reverence; even the 
open-hearted conqueror of Carthage used to enter the capi- 
tol alone, under pretence of consulting the gods, that what- 
ever enterprises he wished to recommend to the people, 
they might believe them to be directed and approved by 
their deities. But nothing impedes the march of truth more 
than the offered assistance of falsehood. Nothing is more 
injurious to a good cause than the attempt to help it forward 
with fictitious or even doubtful additions. Some of the 
best cases, — cases corroborated by a thousand indubitable 
facts, --have been injured for a time, by the detection of 
petty instances of misrepresentation, or mistake, or at^^ra- 
vation in ill-judging advocates. "^"^ 

After the example of the illustrious Romans above recit- 
ed, but with far less excuse, even some weak Christians, 
in the second century, fancying that deceit might succeed 
where truth had failed, attempted by forgerv to supply the 
deficiencies of Scripture. Spurious Sibylline verses, under 
the reign of one of the Antonines, were imposed by fraud 
upgn folly, as prophecies of Christ, pretending to be as 
old as the deluge. The attempt to mend perfection never 
answers 



282 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

To these political impostures what a contrast does St. Paul 
exhibit at once in his writings and his life! — In his writings 
he declares, in one short sentence, of all such principles, 
" their condemnation is just." In his life he suffered evil to 
extremity, that good might be produced; but never, under 
the most alluring pretence, did evil, or connived at it. He 
drew in no convert, by displaying only the pleasant side of 
Christianity. To bring forward the doctrine of the cross 
was his first object; though, since his time, to keep them 
out of sight has sometimes been thought a more prudent 
measure. But the political wisdom of the Jesuitical mis- 
sionaries failed as completely, as the simple integrity of the 
apostle succeeded. 

His arguments, it is true, were powerful, his motives at- 
tractive; but he never shrunk from the avowal, that they 
were drawn wholly from things unseen, future, eternal 
" To you who are troubled, rest with us, when the Lord 
Jesus shall be revealed from heaven, with his holy angels." 
" If we suffer with Christ, we shall be also glorified togeth- 
er." — "The sufferings of the present world are not worthy 
to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed." And 
in this view he is not afraid to speak of suffering, as a favor 
connected with faith. It is given unto them, in the behalf 
of Christ, not only to believe, but also to suffer for his sake. 

How powerful must have been the convictions of his 
faith, and the integrity of his heart, which could not only 
conquer prejudices the most inveterate, but could lead him 
to renounce every prospect of riches and power, fame and 
distinction, — objects which were likely to have taken deep 
hold on a temper so fervent, a genius so active! He knew 
that the cause he was embracing, would defeat all such ex- 
pectations. He possibly might have advanced his fortune, 
certainly his reputation, under his Jewish masters, had he 
pursued those practices in which he was so hotly engaged, 
when he was so exceedingly mad against the Church of God. 

What was the use which, in his new character, he made 
of his natural advantages ? It was the same which he made 
of his supernatural graces. Did the one induce intellectual 
pride? Did the other inspire spiritual self-sufficiency ? Was 
it his aim to exalt the accomplished preacher.^ Was it not 
his only endeavor to magnify the crucified Saviour? He 
sought no civil power, courted no ecclesiastical supremacy. 
He conferred honor on episcopacy by ordaining bishops, 
but took no rank himself He intermeddled with no party. 
All his interference with governments was to teach the 
people to obey them 



KSSAY ON ST. PAUL. 283 

He had nothing to bias him at the time of his conversion, 
any more than afterwards. — He embraced Christianity 
when at the height of its discredit: in defending it, he was 
neither influenced by the obstinacy of supporting a precon- 
ceived opinion, nor the private motive of personal attach- 
ment. As he had not been a follower nor an acquaintance 
of Jesus, he had never been buoyed up with the hope of a 
place in his expected temporal kingdom. Had this been 
the case, mere pride and pertinacity in so strong a charac- 
ter, might have led him to adhere to the falling cause, lest 
by deserting it he might be accused of disappointment in 
his hopes, or pusillanimity in his temper. Was it probable 
then, that on any lower principle he would encounter every 
hazard, sacrifice every hope, annihilate every possibility 
of preferment, for the cause of a man, after his ignominious 
death, whom he had so fiercely opposed, when the danger 
was less alarming, and the hope less uncertain. 

His strong faith was fortified by those trials which would 
have subdued a weak one. His zeal increased with the 
darkness of his earthly prospects. What were his induce- 
ments? The glory of God. What was his reward? Bonds 
and imprisonment. When arrived at any fresh scene of 
peril, did he smooth his language to secure his safety? — 
Did he soften an unpallatable truth to attract upon false 
grounds? Did he practise any artifice to swell the cata- 
logue of his proselytes ? Did he take advantage of igno- 
rance and idolatry, when acclamations met him? Did he 
court popularity when he refused divine honors? Did he 
not prefer his Master's crown of thorns to the garlands with 
which the priests of Jupiter would have crowned him ? Is 
it not observable, that this ofl^er of deification disturbed the 
serenity of his spirit more than all his injuries had done? 

Two remarks arise out of this circumstance. How little 
is popular acclamation any proof of the comparative excel- 
lence of the objects of acclaim; and how little is genuine 
grandeur of soul elated by it! Jesus, after all his miracu- 
lous deeds, as full of mercy as of power, — deeds repeatedly 
performed in his own country, and before the same specta- 
tors — never had divine honors paid him. While, for a 
single cure, Paul and his companions were instantly deified, 
though they rejected the homage with a holy indignation. 
Nothing could more fully prove their deep humility than 
that they bore the abuse and ill treatment of the people 
with meekness; but when they would have worshipped 
them, " they rent their clothes." 

In fine, no principle short of the faith described by our 



284 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

apostle in the eleventh of Hebrews, could have enabled 
him to sustain with such heroic firmness, the diversified 
sufferings alluded to in the twelfth of the second of Corin- 
thians. Nothing short of that divine support could have 
produced a disinterestedness so pure, a devotedness so 
sublime. 

The afflictions of the saints serve to prove the distin- 
guished character of God's favor. The grace so eminently 
afforded to this apostle neither exempted him from sorrow, 
nor suffering, nor dangers, nor calumny, nor poverty, nor 
a violent death. That its results were in the opposite 
direction, shows at once the intrinsic nature of the divine 
favor, and the spirit in which it is received and acted upon 
by sincere Christians. 



CHAP. VII. 

St. PauVs prudence in his conduct towards the Jeivs 

The judgment of St. Paul is remarkably manifest in the 
juxta-position of things. In opening his epistle to his con- 
verts at Rome, among whom were many Jews for whose 
benefit he wrote, he paints the moral character of the 
Pagan capital in the darkest colors. The fidelity of his 
gloomy picture is corroborated by an almost contemporary 
historian, * who, though a Pagan and a countryman, paints 
it in still blacker shades, and without the decorum observed 
by St. Paul. 

The representation here made of Roman vice, would be 
in itself sufficiently pleasing to the Jews; and it would be 
more so, when we observe, what is most worthy of obser- 
vation, the nature of the charges brought against the Ro- 
mans. As if the wisdom of God had been desirous of 
vindicating itself by the lips of Paul in the eyes of his own 
countrymen the Jews, the vices charged upon the Romans 
are exactly those which stand in opposition to the spirit of 
some one injunction of the decalogue. Now, though the 
heathen writers were unacquainted with this code, yet the 
spontaneous breach of its statutes proved most clearly these 
statutes to have been suggested by the most correct fore- 
knowledge of the evil propensities of our common nature 

* Suetonius. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL 285 

The universal violation of the law, even by those who 
knew it not, manitested the omniscience of the lawgiver. 

And, let it be further remarked in this connection, that 
no exceptions could be taken against the justice of God, 
tor animadverting on the breach of a law, which was not 
known: inasmuch as, so faithful was the law of Mount Sinai 
to the law of conscience, the revealed to the natural code 
of morals, that the Romans in offending one had offended 
both; in breaking unwittingly the decalogue, they had 
knowingly rebelled against the law of conscience; they had 
sinned against the light of nature; they had stifled the sug- 
gestions of their better judgment; they had consciously 
abused natural mercies; they had confounded the distinc- 
tions of good and evil, of which they were not insensible. 
" Their conscience bore them witness" that they violated 
many obvious duties, so that " even these were without 
excuse." 

The unconverted Jews would, doubtless, then feel no 
small pleasure in contemplating this hideous portrait of 
human crimes as without excuse, and would naturally be 
tempted, with their usual self-complacency, to turn it to 
their own advantage, and boastfully to thank God that they 
were not like other men, or even like these Romans. 

To check this \inbecoming exultation, the apostle, with 
admirable dexterity, in the very next chapter * begins to 
pull down their high conceits. He presents them with a 
frightful picture of themselves, drawn from the life, and 
aggravated by a display of that superior light and knowledge 
which rendered their immoralities far more inexcusable. 
To the catalogue of the vices which he had reprehended in 
the others, he adds that of self-sufficiency, arrogance, and 
harsh judgment, which formed so distinguished a feature in 
the Pharisaic character. Paul in this point shows the equity 
of distributive justice. The Jews had sinned, not only 
against the law they knew, but the law they venerated. — 
They rested in the law, not with gratitude for the distinc- 
tion, but with security in the privilege; and tliey were 
ruined, he suggests, by a vain confidence in those external 
advantages which would have been their glory, had not 
privileges been converted into a substitute for piety. What 
apology should lie now offer for the sins of the chosen 
nation, the peculiar people, the possessors and the boasters 
of the law, distinguished, not only by having received, but 
by being the hereditary, exclusive proprietors of the divine 
oracles? Thus, while he convicts his own nation, he gives 

* Romans, oil. ii. 



286 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

an awful lesson to posterity of the vanity of forms and pro- 
fession, that it is not possessing nor dispersing the Bible 
that will carry men to heaven, but only as they individually 
believe its doctrines, submit to its authority, and conform 
to its precepts. The apostle reminds them, that it is not 
the knowledge of God's will, which they possessed; nor 
the approbation of " things that are excellent," which they 
manifested; nor their confident ambition of teaching others; 
nor their skill to guide the blind ; nor the form of knowledge ; 
nor the letter of the law, which could avail without personal 
holiness. 

After this severe reproof, for doing themselves the wrong 
things they censured, and for not doing the right things 
they taught, he suddenly turns upon them with a rapid suc- 
cession of interrogatories respecting their own practice, 
personally applying each distinct subject of their instruc- 
tion of others to each distinct failure of their own in those 
very points of conduct which they insisted on; proving 
upon them, that through this glaring inconsistency, "the 
name of God was blasphemed among unbelievers." 

Thus he demonstrates that the Jew and Gentile stand on 
the same level with regard to their definitive sentence, each 
being to be judged according to their respective law. Nay, 
the conscientious Pagan will find more favor than the im- 
moral Jew. Profession will not justify, but aggravate of- 
fence. Men, indeed, may see our exactness in forms and 
observances, and will justly commend what is in itself com- 
mendable; but as they cannot discern the thoughts and 
intents of the heart, they may admire as piety what is at 
worst hypocrisy, and at best but form. Whilst of the 
sincere Jew he declares, as we may also of the sincere 
Christian, he is a Jew who is one imvardly, not in the letter, 
but in the heart and the spirit, whose praise is not of men, but 
of God. 

By the august simplicity and incontrovertible reasoning 
of this epistle to Rome, and by that supernatural power 
which accompanied it, he brought down the arrogance of 
human ability from its loftiest heights, subdued the pride 
of philosophy in its strong holds, and superseded the theo- 
logy, without aiming at the splendor, of the most amiable 
and eloquent of all the Romans in his admired work on the 
"nature of the gods." By one short address to that city, 
written m the demonstration of the spirit and of power, he 
" destroyed the wisdom of the wise, and brought to nothing 
-he understanding of the prudent." 

Knowing tiiat pride was the dominant disposition of his 



ESSAY OX ST. PAUL. 287 

own countrymen, he loses no occasion of attacking this 
master sin, and frequently intimates how ill it became such 
an insignificant and perverse people to arrogate to them- 
selves a superiority, for which, though their advantages 
furnish them with means, their practice furnishes them with 
no shadow of pretence. 

In speaking on this subject, St. Paul used none of the 
cant, but displayed all the kindness of liberality. Speak- 
ing of the Jews, " he bears them record that they had a zeal 
for God," but instantly his veracity obliged him to qualify 
his candor, by lamenting that their zeal was not regulated 
by knowledge. Their perverseness rather increased his 
desire of serving them, than drove him into a hopeless in- 
difference; their provocations grieved, but neither silenced 
nor exasperated him. 

It was the high destiny of this distinguished apostle, that 
he was to be the honored instrument of enlarging, to an 
indefinite extent, the hitherto contracted pale of Christian- 
ity. The law of Moses had been committed to one single 
people, and it was one of the conditions of that law, that 
they to whom it was given were interdicted from any free 
intercourse with the rest of the world. A larger heart 
and a higher mind than those of Paul, could not have been 
found for the new and expanded service. Christianity, 
through him, opened wider her liberal arms, broke through 
the narrow barrier, and carried her unconditional offers of 
boundless emancipation to every captive of sin and igno- 
rance throughout all the kingdoms of the world. 

But though Paul's original destination was, that he should 
be the apostle of the Gentiles; though his labors were to 
be more especially consecrated to that innumerable mass 
to whom the narrow minded Jews grudged the very chance 
of access to heaven; yet wherever he came, he showed this 
mark of regard, that he opened his first public instructions 
in the Jewish synagogue, referring the hearers in his dis- 
courses to their own prophets, as he did his Pagan auditors 
to their own authors. 

It was necessary that the word of God should be first 
spoken to the Jews, they being the depositaries of the ante- 
cedent revelations made by the Almighty; which revela- 
tions being preparatory to the introduction of the Gospel, 
and abounding with prophetic intimations of the Messiah, 
if the Jews should accept the new revelation as the comple- 
tion of the old, it would largely contribute to convince the 
heathen that Christianity was in truth a Divine institution. 
The annals of the Jews, insulated as (hey had been as a 



288 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

people, had become, by Divine appointment, connected 
with the history of other nations. Their captivity had 
brought them into contact with Persia and Babylon. As 
they always continued a commercial people, they had, after 
their dispersion, by their extensive traffic, carried their 
religion with their commerce into various countries. Thus 
their proverbial love of gain had been over-ruled to a 
providential purpose, that of carrying the knowledge of the 
one true God among the Gentiles. This again, by that 
secret working of Infinite Wisdom, served as a prelude to 
the appearance of Christianity in these countries, and would 
probably lessen their indisposition to receive it. By the 
same providential ordination of that Power who educes 
good from evil, the emperor Claudius, in banishing the 
Christians from Rome, caused the faith to be more exten- 
sively spread by these exiles, who were dispersed through 
different countries: — and, to mention another instance, by 
the disagreement between Paul and Barnabas, though the 
comfort of Christian society was mutually lost, yet their 
separation caused the Gospel to be preached at the same 
time in two places instead of one. But though the sins of 
the worst men, and the infirmities of the best, are made 
subservient to God's gracious purpose, they justify neither 
the resentment of the saint, nor the crime of the emperor. 

St. Paul, in directing his instructions, first to the Jewish 
sojourners in the heathen cities, bequeathed an important 
lesson to all reformers, — that the most extensive plans of 
doing good to strangers should be accompanied with the 
most unabated zeal at home; and that natural connections 
have the prior, though not the exclusive claim to their 
services. 

If in the first promulgation of the Gospel-message, the 
apostle showed a regard to the rights of the Jewish nation, 
in his subsequent conduct on every possible occasion, he 
consults even their prejudices. At all times he showed as 
much respect for their religion as was consistent with that 
which he now professed; always studiously endeavoring to 
obviate objection, and to cut off every plausible ground of 
complaint. Thus, in treating with deference the Jewish 
laws and usages, though virtually abrogated, he loudly 
instructs us that temperance is not to be swallowed up by 
zeal; that it may be prudent for a time, to let some inferior 
errors alone, yet not without intimation or implication that 
they are errors; that premature attacks upon the lesser, 
may obstruct the removal of the greater. And in other 
cases we may learn, that though extirpation may be iadis- 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 289 

pensably necessary, yet it may, under certain circumstan- 
ces, be better effected by the gradual process of successive 
strokes, than by laying at the first blow the axe to the root. 
A lesson of discreet kindness may also be learned from 
the same example in the domestic walks of life. If pious 
young persons do not patiently bear with any averseness 
in a parent or a friend from that serious spirit which they 
themselves have been happily brought to entertain; morose- 
ness and ill-humored opposition will not only increase the 
distaste, instead of recommending a religion, of which their 
own temper affords so unamiahle and so unfair a specimen 

It was the same discretion which led Paul at one time to 
confer on Timothy* the initiatory rite of the Jewish church, 
because his mother was of Jewish extraction; and at an- 
other, induced him to forbid Titus undergoing the same 
ceremony, because his origin was Pagan.f The one was 
allowed, to avoid doing violence to Jewish prejudices; the 
other prohibited, lest the Gentile convert should be taught 
to place his dependence on any thing but the Saviour. He 
inflexibly resisted granting this introductory rite to Pagan 
converts. Though this union of candor with firmness is a 
very exemplary part of his character, it has not escaped the 
charge of inconsistency. But he thought it was acting in a 
more Christian spirit, to continue, in different instances, his 
conformity to ancient usages; than by a violent opposition 
to mere forms, to irritate persons, some of whom conscien- 
tiously persevered in them. 

Perhaps no quality has been more fatal to the interests 
of Christianity than prejudice. It is the moral cataract of 
the human mind. In vain the meridian sun of truth darts 
his full beams. The mental eye is impervious to the 
strongest ray. When religion is to be assailed, prejudice 
knows how to blend antipathies. It leagued those mutual 
enemies Herod and Pontius Pilate in one common cause. 
It led the Jews to prefer the robber to the Saviour. Though 
they abhorred the Roman yoke, yet rather than Jesus shall 
escape, " they will have no king but Ciesar." At Jerusa- 
lem it had united the bigot Pharisee and the infidel Saddu- 
cee against Paul, till his declaration that he was of the 
former class, by exciting a party-spirit, suspended, but did 
not extinguish their fury. At Athens it combined, in ones 
joint opposition, two sects, the most discordant in sentiment 
and practice. When truth was to be attacked, the rigid 
stoic could unite with the voluptuous epicurean. 

Prejudice had not only blinded the understanding of the 

* Acts, xvi. 3. t t«al. ii 

* 18 



290 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL 

Jews, so as to prevent their receiving the truth, but led 
them to violate it, by asserting a glaring falsehood. When 
our Lord told them that " if they would know the truth the 
truth would make them free," — as they had no idea of spir- 
itual freedom, so of civil liberty they had nothing to boast. 
But, exasperated at any offer of deliverance, because it 
implied subjugation, they indignantly replied, " we were 
never in bondage to any man," though it was notorious 
that they had been bond-slaves in Egypt, captives in Baby- 
lon, and were, at the very moment of this proud boast, 
tributary to the Romans. 

Ignorance and prejudice respecting religion can never 
be fairly pleaded in excuse by minds cultivated by diligent 
inquiry on other subjects. Paul, indeed, says, that, though 
a persecutor, he obtained mercy, because he did it igno- 
rantly. The apology from him is valid, for he does not 
offer the plea for ignorance and prejudice, till he was cured 
of both. His sincerity appears in his abandoning his error, 
his humility in confessing it. Our spiritual strength is in- 
creased by the retrospection of our former faults. This 
remembrance left a compassionate feeling for the errors of 
others on the impressible heart of St. Paul. Perhaps in his 
early mad career against the Church of Christ, he might 
be permitted to carry it to such lengths, to afford a proof 
that omnipotence can subdue even prejudice! 

It is a melancholy feature in the character of the human 
mind, that St. Paul met with less mercy from his brethren, 
among whom he had been bred, and whose religion ap- 
proached so much nearer to that which he had adopted, 
than from the higher class of the Pagans, who stood at the 
farthest possible distance from it. Caiaphas, Ananias, 
Tertullus, and the whole Sanhedrim, were far more violent 
than Lysias, Felix, Festus, Gallio, the town-clerk of Ephe- 
sus, or the rulers of Thessalonica. 

Even on that awful occasion, when prejudice did its 
worst, the Roman judge who condemned the Saviour of the 
world, was more candid than the high priest, who deliver- 
ed him up. While the Jews cried. Crucify! the governor 
declared " he found no fault in him:" and, but for the 
suppleness and venality of his character, would have pro- 
tected the life which he sacrificed to Jewish bigotry. While 
Pilate deliberated, Caiaphas cut the matter short on the plea 
of expediency* — "it is expedient that one man should die 
tor the people." In this high priest the doctrine found a 
patron worthy of itself 

*John, xviii. 14 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 291 

There was in the Divine Sufferer a veiled majesty; there 
was a mysterious grandeur thrown round his character; 
there were glimpses of glory breaking through the obscurity 
in which he was shrouded, which excited a curiosity not 
unmingled with fear in the great ones of the earth. It was 
a grand illustration of that solemn indistinctness which is 
said to be one cause of the sublime. Both Herod and 
Pilate were surprised into something like an involuntary 
respect, mixed with a vague apprehension of they knew not 
what. 

But to return from this too long digression, for which the 
only apology that can be offered, is, that the uniform tem- 
per and conduct of St. Paul with the Jews, was eminently 
calculated to parry every objection that had any show of 
reason, and to remove every prejudice which was not in- 
vincible. 

In the case of Paul, Agrippa appears to have been the 
only Jew in authority who ever manifested any show of 
candor towards him. Even the offended Athenians were 
so far affected with his discourse, as to betray their emo- 
tion by saying, "We will hear thee again on this matter;" 
thus civilly softening rejection into procrastination; — while 
there is scarcely an instance of any Jewish people, as a 
body, fairly inquiring into the truth of the Christian doc- 
trine with a real desire of information. 

The Bereans, indeed, offer an honorable exception, and 
are accordingly distinguished by one, who rarely employs 
epithets, the biographer of St. Paul, with the appellation 
of "noble." This thinking people did not hghtly embrace 
the new religion without inquiry, but received it upon ra- 
tional examination, daily searching the Scriptures; thus 
presenting us with an example of that union of faith and 
reason which constitutes the character of a sound Chris- 
tian. 

Though the Gentiles were ready to oppose St. Paul 
wherever he came, we do not find that they pursued him 
with hostility from one city to another, as the Jews of 
Thessalonica did, in following him to Berea, to excite a 
persecution against him. 

The temper to which allusion has been made, is not, it 
is to be feared, quite extinct. Are there not, at this iii- 
vored period of light and knowledge, some Christians by 
profession, who manifest more hostility towards those who 
are laboring to procure instruction for (he Hindoos, than 
towards Hindooism itself? Are not shades of our own 
color looked at with a more jealour; eye, than a color of 



292 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL 

the most opposite character? and is not the remark too 
nearly founded in experience; that approximation rather 
inflames than cools ; that nearness aggravates because it is 
not identity? If, like the apostle, a man is impelled by 
his conscience to act against the opinion of those with 
whom he desires to live well; to obey the impulse, as it is 
a severe trial of his feelings, so it is a surer test of his in- 
tegrity, than to expose himself to the censure of his ene- 
mies; o£ their hostility he was assured before; he is, in the 
other case, risking the loss of his friends. 

St. Paul's prudence, under the divine direction, led him 
to adopt very different measures in his intercourse with 
the Jews and with the Gentiles; measures suggested by 
the different condition of the two classes, both in their civil 
and religious circumstances. To the one, the very name 
of Messiah was unknown; of the other, he was both the 
glory and the shame. To the one true God in whom they 
fully believed, they were to add the reception of Jesus 
Christ. " He came to his own," but his own, so far from 
receiving, crucified him. Subsequently to this event, Paul 
labored to convince them, that this was the Saviour pro- 
mised, first by God himself, then by a long and unbroken 
succession of the very prophets whom they professed to 
venerate. With these adversaries, therefore, he had sub- 
stantial grounds on which to expostulate; analogies, from 
which to arfli-ue; promises, which they believed; predic- 
tions, of which they had expected the accomplishment; 
and, to leave them without the shadow of excuse, he had 
to plead the actual recent fulfilment of these predictions. 

But with the Gentiles he had no common ground on 
which to stand, no references to which to send them, no 
analogies from which to reason, except indeed the visible 
works of creation and providence. He did what a pro- 
found thinker of our own country has since done more in 
detail: he showed them the analogy of revealed religion toith 
the constitution and course of nature * In this he had, as it 
were, to address their senses rather than their intellect or 
their knowledge, great as were both, — for their wisdom 
had served only to lead them wider from the mark. 

As they were little acquainted with first principles, he 
had with them no middle way to take. He could not im- 
prove upon polytheism; there was no such thing as mend- 
ing idolatry; it was not a building to be repaired; it must 
be demolished; no materials were to be picked out from its 
ruins towards the construction of the everlasting edifice; 

* Bishop IJiitler. 



ESSAY OiN ST. PAUL. 293 

tne rubbish must be rolled away. A clear stage must be 
left for the new order of things; with this order it had no 
compatibilities; old things were past away, all things must 
become new. 

The Sun of Righteousness which was to absorb the 
faint, but not false, lights of Judaism, was utterly to dispel 
the darkness of Paganism. One of the Roman emperors 
(most of whom thought that they could not have too many 
gods, nor too little religion) would have added Jesus to the 
number of their deities. Paul abhorred any such compro- 
mise. "We know," says he, "an idol is nothing in the 
world." Such an association, therefore, would not be of 
good and bad, but of every thing with nothing. Chris- 
tianity would not accept of any thing short of the annihila- 
tion of the whole mythologic rabble. 

The new economy was now to take place. The funda- 
mental doctrine of one God over all blessed for ever, which 
had been long familiar to the Jew, was at length to be 
made known to the heathen, with the participation in com- 
mon with the Jew, of salvation by his Son. The partition 
wall was taken down for ever. 

Paul however retained, to the end of his ministry, a cor- 
dial kindness for "his brethren after the flesh." His 
heart's desire and prayer for Israel was, that they might 
be saved, — for the rose of Sharon was grafted on the 
stem of David. Not only the same God was to be wor- 
shipped by both, but "Jesus whom he had sent;" while 
Paganism lay prostrate, never more to rise from its ruins. 
It is a remarkable circumstance, that while to this day sui 
viving Israel remains without a temple, the surviving Pan- 
theon remains without a worshipper. 



CHAP. VIII. 

St. PauVs Judgment in his intercourse with the Pagans. 

It is among the mysteries of Christianity, that the 
preaching of Jesus made so few converts, and his death so 
many. The more affecting were his discourses, the stron- 
ger was the indignation they excited; the deeper was the 
anxiety which he expressed for the salvation of men, so 
much the more vehemently were they exasperated against 
him; the more merciful were his miracles, so much the 



294 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

faster did they accelerate his ignominious catastrophe. 
"Did not this prove," says the eloquent Bossuet, "that 
not his words, but his cross was to bring all men to Him? 
Does it not prove that the power of his persuasion consisted 
in the shedding of his blood?" This he himself predicted 
— "And I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto me." 
Were it not for this reason, it would be astonishing to our 
shallow wisdom, that the Author of Christianity made so 
few proselytes to his own faith, and his apostles so many. 
That the disciple who denied him should, after the descent 
of the Holy Spirit, awaken, by a single sermon, the con- 
sciences of three thousand auditors; and that the persecu- 
tor, who reviled him, should become, under the influence 
of the same Divine Spirit, the mighty instrument of the 
conversion of the Pagan world. 

If St. Paul had declined visiting the learned and polished 
regions of Greece, it might have been produced against 
him, that he carefully avoided those cultivated cities where 
men were best able to judge of the consistency of the Gos- 
pel doctrines with its precepts, and of the truth of those 
miracles by which its divinity was confirmed. The Greeks 
might have urged it as an argument against Paul's integ- 
rity, that he confined his preaching to the countries which 
they called barbarous, knowing they would be less acute 
in discovering inconsistencies, and more easily imposed 
upon by impostures which men of liberal education would 
have immediately detected. His visiting every city famous 
for literature, science, and philosophy, would also be a 
complete refutation of any such charge in after ages. 
"Because," says a judicious commentator, "if upon an 
accurate examination, great numbers of men embraced the 
Gospel, who were best qualified to judge of its nature and 
evidences, their conversion would render it indubitable in 
after times, that the Gospel was supported by those great 
and undeniable miracles which were performed in every 
country by the preachers of Christianity ; so that no person 
might hereafter suspect that idolatry was destroyed and 
Christianity established merely through the simplicity and 
ignorance of the people among whom it was first preach- 
ed."* 

St. Paul was with more propriety selected to be the 
apostle of the Gentiles, than if he had been of Gentile ex- 
traction; none but a teacher, educated as he had been, 
under an eminent Jewish doctor, would have been so com- 
petent to produce, before both Jews and Gentiles, proofs 

* Macknisht on the Life of St. Paul 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 29b 

that the miracles, sufTerings, and death of Jesus happened 
in exact conformity to the predictions of those prophets of 
whom the Jews had perfect knowledge, and to whom, 
though the Gentiles previously knew them not, yet it is 
probable that he afterwards for their fuller confirmation 
would refer them. 

There appears to have been a considerable difference 
between St. Paul's reception among the Jewish and Gentile 
populace. Among the former, the "common people, who 
had heard Jesus gladly," must have had their prejudices 
softened, and in many instances removed; even those, pro- 
bably, who were not converted, had seen and heard of his 
miracles with astonishment. They were also witnesses of 
the wonderful effects produced by St. Peter's sermon. 
Their minds were become so favorably disposed, that, after 
the miracle wrought by Peter and John,* the enraged 
council did not venture to punish them, "because of the 
people, for all men glorified God for that which v/as done." 

While the heathen governors seem, in their transactions 
with St. Paul, less intolerant than the Jewish Sanhedrim, 
the heathen multitude appear to have been more furious 
than the Jewish. The Jewish leaders had a personal hatred 
to Christ; the Gentile community had a national hatred 
to the Jews. If a party among the Jews detested the 
Christians, the Pagans as a body despised the Jews, whilst 
they would consider Christianity but as a new modification 
of an antiquated and degrading superstition, made worse 
by the offensive addition of certain tenets, still more un- 
philosophical and incredible than were taught under the 
old dispensation. The contempt of the Gentiles was found- 
ed on their ignorance of the true religion of Judaism, and 
that again had prevented any inquiry into their opinions. 
From the prejudiced pen of Tacitus, and the sarcastic 
muse of Juvenal, we see the disdain in which they were 
held. The great writers, only less culpable than modern 
infidels, like them collected a string of misrepresentations, 
and then turned into ridicule the system of their own in- 
vention. 

The philosophers, who disagree each with the other, all 
join in the contemning rhore especially one doctrine of 
Christianity, which every sect alike conceived to be the 
most inconsistent with their own tenets, and the most con- 
tradictory to general philosophical principles, — the resur- 
rection of the body, which they contemptuously called the 
hope of worms. 

* Acts, cliap. 4. 



296 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

The Pagan magistrates looked with a jealous eye upoK 
all innovators: not indeed so much from an aversion to any 
novelty of religious opinion, (for to this they were so in- 
different as to make little objection to any mode of worship 
which did not seek to subvert their own;) but, through the 
machinations of the mercenary priests, who, fearful of any 
invasion of their corrupt establishment, any detection of 
their frauds, any disclosure of their mysteries, any danger 
of their altars, their auguries, their profitable oracles, and 
above all, any abridgement of their political influence ; ex- 
cited the civil governors against Paul by the stale artifice 
of insinuating that his designs were hostile to the state. 

The artisans who enriched themselves by the occupation 
of making the symbols of idolatry, found that, by the con- 
tempt into which their deities were likely to be brought, 
their craft would not only be endangered, but destroyed. 
This conviction, more perhaps than any zeal for their own 
religion, served to influence them also against that of St. 
Paul. And finally the populace, who liked the easy and 
pleasant way of appeasing their divinities by shows and 
pageants, and ceremonies, and lustral days, were unwilling 
to lose their holidays, and all the decorations and pleasures 
which distinguished them, and did not care to exchange 
this gay and amusing religion for the spiritual, sober, and 
unostentatious worship of the Christians. 

There was therefore no disposition in any class of socie- 
ty to receive the doctrines of the Gospel, or to forgive the 
intrusion of its teachers. Paul, unsupported, unfriended, 
had to open his own commission to audiences backed by 
multitudes, protected by power, patronised by learning, 
countenanced by the national priesthood. It was a far 
more unequal contest than that of David and Goliath; for, 
besides the people, he had to combat with the giants of 
Areopagus. But greater was He that was for him, than 
they who were against him. 

Had he not been an adept in the knowledge of human 
nature, how could there have been, in his diversified dis- 
courses, such an adaptation to the moral wants of men? 
His superiority in this respect appears not only in his 
general knowledge of man in the abstract, but in his ac- 
quaintance with life and manners, in what we call know- 
ledge of the world; in his scrupulous observance of time 
and place, in his admirable judgment in so skilfully ac- 
commodating his discourses to the condition, character, 
and circumstances of the persons whom he addressed. To 
some he applied as to decided enemies to Christianity ; to 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 297 

others as utterly unacquainted with its nature, and igno- 
rant of its design, but not averse from inquiring into its 
truth. He always carefully distinguished between the 
errors of the followers of religion and the sins of her ad- 
versaries. To some he addressed himself as awakened, 
to others, as enlightened, to many as sincere, but to none 
as perfect. 

The various powers of his opulent mind he exercised 
with a wise appropriation to the genius of those whom he 
addressed. With the Jews " he reasoned ; " with the Athe- 
nian controvertists " he disputed;" at Ephesus " he boldly 
disputed and persuaded." 

The apostle's zeal was never cooled by the improba- 
bility of success. He knew that what seemed hopeless to 
men was not impossible to God. Even at Paphos, where 
the most impure worship was offered to the most impure 
deity, he made a most important convert in the proconsul 
himself.* This wise governor holds out an example to 
men in high public stations; he suffered not himself to be 
influenced by report, or duped by misrepresentation; he 
would hear with his own ears " the word of God" which 
Paul preached, and see with his own eyes the miracle 
which confirmed it. 

In his preaching at Antioch,! he introduces his great 
commission to the Gentiles in the most dignified and mas- 
terly manner, referring the Jewish auditors to the striking 
passages of their national history; to the prophecies and 
their fulfilment: to the attestation of the Baptist; to Christ's 
death and resurrection. He ends with a most awful pero- 
ration; "Behold, ye despisers, and wonder and perish;" 
and then, with a measured sternness which nothing could 
shake, he makes the disclosure of that grand scheme, of 
Almighty goodness, the scheme of proclaiming to the Gen- 
tiles that Gospel which the chosen people to whom it had 
been offered, so contumeliously rejected. How striking 
the contrast of manner in which these words of the apos- 
tle were received by the two classes of hearers! — the 
envy and malignity, " the contradictions and blasphemies 
of the Jews;" the joyful gratitude with which the heathen 
" glorified the word of the Lord," at the annunciation of a 
blessing so vast and so unexpected! 

To the people of Lystra his address is short, plain, and 
simple, yet passionate and energetic: so plain, as to be not 
only understood, but felt by the meanest auditor; yet so 
powerful, that when aided by a miracle of mercy, which 

* Sergiiis Vnuhxi'. + Acts ch. 13. 



298 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

he wrought before them, he scarcely restrained them from 
offering him divine honors. His appearance before Felix 
having been more largely detailed by the sacred historian, 
we may well be allowed a more particular consideration 
of it. Heathen historians represent Felix as having, by 
every kind of misconduct, excited disturbances in Judea, 
and by exactions and oppressions obtained the contempt 
of his subjects, to whom he had occasioned great calami- 
ties; his mal-administration, but for the intervention of the 
governor of Syria, would have kindled a war; and an in- 
stance of it indeed occurs on the very occasion of which 
we are about to speak, in Paul's long detention in confine- 
ment. It is recorded in the Acts, that he hoped the apos- 
tle would have bribed him with money, in order to procure 
his escape.* 

Let us now contrast the different conduct of the popular 
advocate retained by the Jews against Paul, with that of 
Paul himself, towards this corrupt governor. Tertullus, a 
florid speaker, is not ashamed, in the true spirit of party 
oratory, to offer the grossest adulation to this wicked 
judge; not only extolling what he knew to be false, — the 
tranquillity produced by his administration, and " the worthy 
deeds" done by him, — but even exalting him into a sort of 
deity, by whose providence their prosperity was procured. 
Then, in the usual strain of artful and disingenuous adula- 
tion, having already exceeded all bounds of decency, he 
finishes his harangue by hypocritically expressing his fears 
that praise " might be tedious to him," 

After the affected declamation of this rhetorical parasite, 
how are we refreshed with the wise, temperate, and simple 
defence of the apostle! Instead of loading Tertullus with 
reproaches for the infamous charges of heresy and sedition 
brought against himself, he maintains a dignified silence till 
the governor " beckoned to him to speak." He then en- 
ters upon his vindication without a single invective against 
his accusers, and what is still more honorable to his own 
character, without a single compliment to his judge, though 
well aware that his liberty, and even his life, were in his 
hands. Unjust as Felix was, the charges against Paul 
were too flagrantly false to mislead him, and the noble 
simplicity of the prisoner's defence carried in it something 
so convincing to the understanding of the judge, that he 
durst not act upon the allegations of the accuser, nor con- 
demn the innocent. 

At a subsequent meeting, Paul seemed more intent to 

* Acts, oh. 24. 



ESSAY ON ST, PAUL. 299 

alarm the conscience of the governor, than he had pre- 
viously been to assert his ov/n integrity. Felix, ever pre- 
senting us with the idea of a bad mind, ill at ease with 
itself, sends for Paul, and desires to " hear him concerning 
the faith of Christ." Charmed, no doubt, with the occa- 
sion given him, Paul uses it widely. He does not embark 
on topics irrelevant to the immediate case of his auditors, 
nor by personal reproof does he expose himself to the 
charge of contumacy. He never loses sight of the respect 
due to the judge's office, but still, as he knew the venality 
and profligacy with which he administered that office, to- 
gether with the licentious character of his wife, who was 
present, he reasoned, not declaimed; he " reasoned" on the 
virtues in which he knew they were so shamefully deficient 
-—righteousness and temperance ; and then, doubtless with 
the dignity of one who was himself to "judge angels," 
closed his discourse with referring these notorious violators 
of 6o//t duties to the judgment to come. 

The result of this discourse is the best evidence of the 
power of his reasonings. Conscience-struck, Felix trem- 
bled. The judge dissolved the court, dismissed the pris- 
oner, withheld the sentence, deferred the further trial to an 
mdefinite time, — which time he contrived should never 
arrive,— till both were cited to appear together before the 
mighty Judge of quick and dead. Paul throughout main- 
tams his character, and Felix adds one to the numberless 
instances in which strong convictions not being followed 
up, only serve to enhance guilt and aggravate condem- 
nation. 

To the inhabitants of Ephesus, his reasoning and his 
persuasive powers are alternately exercised. In his con- 
duct in this place we incidentally discover a singular in- 
stance of his discretion in avoiding to excite unnecessary 
irritation. He found in the Ephesians a strong devotion 
to one particular idol; yet it is intimated, in a candid 
speech of their chief magistrate, that he had neither reviled 
their great goddess, Diana, nor profaned their temples 
We may, therefore, fairly presume that he contented him- 
self with preaching against idolatry in general, instead of 
endeavoring to excite the popular indignation by inveiffh- 
mg against the local idol.* 

It is not the meanest of the triumphs of incipient Chris- 
tianity ; that at this place the professors of forbidden arts 
brought out their costly professional books, the recristers 
of their unlawful mysteries, and burnt them, giving a 

* -Ac-Is. 1<). 



300 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

striking proof of the sincerity of their conversion, by thus 
putting it out of their power to repeat their impious incanta- 
tions; their destroying them in the presence of the people, 
was a triple sacrifice of their prejudices, their credit, and 
their profit. What an example have they left to those 
who, though professing Christianity, give birth, or afford 
encouragement, to profane or profligate books, which, 
though of a different character from those of the Ephesian 
sorcerers, possess a magic power over the mind of the 
reader, not less pernicious in itself, and far more extensive 
in its influence.** 

St. Paul's good sense, and may we be permitted to say, 
his good taste — qualities we could rather wish than expect 
to see always brought to the service of religion, — were em- 
inently displayed in his examination at Cesarea. While 
his pleading l3efore the royal audience and other persons 
of dignity and station, exhibits a fine specimen of wisdom 
and good breeding, it exhibits it without the smallest sacri- 
fice of principle, or the least abatement of truth. At once, 
his doctrines are scriptural, and his language is classical. 
On this occasion, as upon all others, conscious dignity is 
mingled with politeness; an air, carrying with it the author- 
ity of truth, with the gentleness of Christianity, pervades 
all he says and does. 

This admirable conduct has extorted, even from that elo- 
quent rhapsodist, the skeptical author| of " the Character- 
istics," a confession, "how handsomely Paul accommodates 
himself to the apprehension and temper of those polite peo- 
ple, the witty Athenians, and the Roman court of judica- 
ture, in the presence of their great men and ladies." At 
this last-named memorable audience, with what admirable 
temper does he preserve his reverence for constituted 
authorities, while he boldly recapitulates those passages 
in his former life which were naturally calculated to give 
offence. — His preliminary compliment to Agrippa was judi- 
ciously conceived in a manner to procure attention to his 
projected defence, without in any sense deserving the name 
of flattery, or in any degree compromising the truth he 
meant to deliver. While it answered its proper end, it 
served as an attestation of his own veracity and of the truth 

* When the French revolution had brought to light the fatal consequences 
of some of Voltaire's writings, some half-scrupulous persons, no longer willing 
to afford his fourscore volumes a place in their library, sold them at a low 
price. This measure, though it " stayed the plague" in their own houses, 
caused the infection to spread wider. The Ephesian magicians made no 
Buch compromise; tiiev burnt theirs. 

t Lord Shaftp.sbnrv. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 301 

of Christianity; for in complimenting the king on the 
knowledge of the facts to which he referred him, he laid 
himself open to immediate detection if the circumstances 
had not been strictly correct, aflx>rding, " a remarkable 
proof," says Lord Lyttleton, " both of the notoriety of the 
I'act and the integrity of the man, who, with so fearless a 
confidence, could call upon a king to give testimony for 
him, while he was sitting in judgment upon him." 

The whole defence is as rational as it is elegant. The 
self-possession, the modest intrepidity, and the pertinent 
choice of matter, furnish a model for innocent sufferers 
under similar circumstances. 

As on the one hand it is a great hardship for an accused 
person to have to plead before ignorance and prejudice, so 
on the other it was not more just than polite and prudent, 
for Paul to begin by expressing his satisfaction that he 
should at least be tried by a judge, who, from his know- 
ledge, his education, and his habits, was competent to 
determme on the cause. While he scruples not to declare 
the mveterate prejudices, the blindness, and persecuting 
spn-it of his former life, he does ample justice to his own 
character as a scholar and a moralist. Well as he knew that 
his piety would not clear him at the tribunal before which 
he stood, yet the fair justification of himself from the crimes 
laid to his charge, was due, not only to his own character, 
but to the religion which he professed. 

Having been himself brought to embrace Christianity 
by no powers of reasoning, by no trains of argument, he 
allowed himself either to employ or neglect them at discre- 
tion, in addressing these assemblies. On the present occa- 
sion he limits himself to matter of fact, and seems to think 
a statement of his own conversion would be more likely to 
impress a judge " expert in all customs and questions 
which were among the Jews. " He insisted dogmatically but 
on one point, the great doctrine of the resurrection, for 
asserting which he had been so often assailed; and he asks, 
why should it be thought a thing incredible.? This, how- 
ever, he does not argue; perhaps conscious of having so 
amply stated, and so argumentatively defended it in'^his 
epistolary writings, now sulTiciently known. 

Festus, with that scorn which any allusion to his tenet 
never failed to excite, impatiently interrupted him, but with 
a reproof which had more of irony than anger, as if he 
thought his credulity rather the effect of insanity than of 
wickedness, the object of ridicule rather than of censure. 
This irritating charge, however, did not make Paul forget 



S02 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

the respect due to the place which Festus tilled; and while 
he vindicated the soundness of his own intellect and the 
sobriety of his doctrine, he did not fail to address the gov- 
ernor by the honorable appellation of "most noble," to 
which his dignity entitled him. His example in this re- 
spect, as in all other particulars, was of an instructive 
nature; teaching us to separate the civility of speech due 
to office from the respect due only to personal character, 
and justify the modern titles and epithets of reverence 
which have occasioned so much discussion in many of our 
public forms. 

The apostle's speech had produced a considerable emo- 
tion in the king, who, however, was determined to act rather 
upon his convenience than his convictions. The apostle 
concludes as he had begun, by seizing on the part of Agrip- 
pa's character which he could most conscientiously com- 
mend, his perfect knowledge of the subject before the court. 
In his solemn interrogation at the close, "King Agrippa, 
believest thou the prophets.^" more is meant than meets the 
ear; for, if he really believed the prophets, could he refuse 
to believe the accomplishment of their predictions? His 
emphatical answer to his own question, " I know that thou 
believest," drew from the startled monarch a free avowal of 
his partial convictions. The brief but affecting prayer with 
which the trial closes, is as elegantly turned as if the apos- 
tle had been the courtier. 

Agrippa appears, in this instance, in a light so much more 
advantageous than any of the other judges before whom 
either Paul or his Lord were cited, that we cannot but re- 
gret that he let slip an occasion so providentially put in his 
way. This illustrious person affords another awful proof 
of the danger of stiffing convictions, postponing inquiries, 
and neglecting opportunities. 

Though the political and military splendor of Athens had 
declined, and the seat of government, after the conquest of 
Greece by the Romans, was transferred to Corinth, yet her 
sun of glory was not set. Philosophy and the liberal arts 
were still carefully cuUivated; students in every department, 
and from every quarter, resorted thither for improvement, 
and her streets were crowded by senators and rhetoricians, 
philosophers and statesmen. 

As Paul visited Athens with views which had instigated 
no preceding, and would probably be entertained by no 
subsequent traveller, so his attention in that most interest- 
ing city was attracted by objects far different from theirs. 
He was in all probability qualified to range, with a learned 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 303 

eye, over the exquisite pieces of art, and to consult and 
enjoy the curious remains of Hterature, — theatres, and 
temples, and schools of philosophy, sepulchres, and ceno- 
taphs, statues of patriots, and portraits of heroes; — monu- 
ments by which the artist had insured to himself the immor- 
tality he was conferring. Yet one edifice alone arrested the 
apostle's notice, — the altar of the idolatrous worshippers. 
One record of antiquity alone invited his critical acumen, — 

THE INSCRIPTION TO THE UNKNOWN GoD. 

The disposition ofthis people, their passion for disputation, 
their characteristic and proverbial love of novelty, had 
drawn together avast assembly. Many of the philosophi- 
cal sects eagerly joined the audience. Curiosity is called 
by an ancient writer, the wantonness of knowledge. These 
critics came, it is likely, not as inquirers, but as spies. The 
grave stoics probably expected to hear some new unbroach- 
ed doctrines which they might overthrow by argument ; the 
lively epicureans some fresh absurdity in religion, which 
would afford a new field for diversion; the citizens, per- 
haps, crowding and listening from the mere motive that they 
might afterwards have to tell the neiv thing they should hear. 
Paul took advantage of their curiosity. As he habitually 
opened his discourses with great moderation, we are the 
less surprised at the measured censure, or rather the im- 
plied civility of his introduction. The ambiguous term 
*' superstitious" which he employed, might be either con- 
strued into respect for their spirit of religious inquiry, or 
into disapprobation of its unreasonable excess; at least 
he intimated that they were so far from not reverencing the 
acknowledged gods, that they worshipped one which was 
" unknown." 

With his usual discriminating mind, he did not "reason" 
with these elegant and learned Polytheists "out of the 
Scriptures," of which they were totally ignorant, as he had 
done at Antioch and Cesarea, before judges who were 
trained in the knowledge of them: he addressed his present 
auditors with an eloquent exposition of natural religion, 
and of the providential government of God, politely illus- 
trating his observations by citing passages from one of 
their own authors. Even by this quotation, without hav- 
ing recourse to Scripture, he was able to controvert the 
epicurean doctrine, that the Deity had no interference with 
human concerns; showing them on their own principles, 
that " we are the offspring of God;" that " in Him we live 
and move, and have our being;" and it is worth observing. 



304 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

that he could select from a poet, sentiments which should 
come nearer to the truth than from a philosopher. 

The orator, rising with his subject, after briefly touching 
on the long suffering of God, awfully announced that igno- 
rance would be no longer any plea for idolatry; that if the 
divine forbearance had permitted it so long, it was in order 
to make the wisest not only see, but feel the insufficiency 
of their own wisdom, in what related to the great concerns 
of religion; but he now commanded all men every where to 
7'epent. He concludes by announcing the solemnities of 
Christ's future judgment, and the resurrection from the dead. 

In considering St. Paul's manner of unfolding to these 
wits and sages the power and goodness of that Supreme 
Intelligence who was the object of their " ignorant worship," 
we are at once astonished at his intrepidity and his manage- 
ment; intrepidity, in preferring this bold charge against an 
audience of the most accompUshed scholars in the world, 
— in charging ignorance upon Athens! blindness on "the 
eye of Greece!" — and management in so judiciously con- 
ducting his oration, that the audience expressed neither 
impatience nor displeasure, till he began to unfold the most 
obnoxious and unpopular of all doctrines, — Jesus raised 
from the dead. 

It is recorded by St. Luke of this polished and highly in- 
tellectual city, that it was wholly given up to idolatry; a con- 
firmation of the remark of Pausanias, that there were more 
image-worshippers in Athens than in all Greece besides. 

We have here a clear proof that the reasonableness of 
Christianity was no recommendation to its adoption by those 
people who, of all others, were acknowledged to have culti- 
vated reason the most highly. What a melancholy and 
heart-humbling conviction, that wit and learning, in their 
loftiest elevation, open no natural avenue to religion in the 
heart of man; that the grossest ignorance leaves it not more 
inaccessible to divine truth. Paul never appears to have 
made so few proselytes in any place as at Athens; and it is 
so far from being true, as its disciples assert, that philoso- 
phy is never intolerant, that the most bitter persecution ever 
inflicted on the Christians was under the most philosophical 
of all the Roman emperors.* 

In this celebrated city, in which Plato, near five hundred 
years before, discoursed so eloquently on the immortality 
of the soul, Paul first preached the resurrection of the body. 
Horace speaks of searching for truth in the groves of Acade- 
mus. But St. Paul was the first who ever taught it tliere. 

* Marcus Anreliiis. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 306 

CHAP. IX. 

• On the general 'principles of St. PauVs Writings. 

One of the most distinguished writers of antiquity, says, 
that " one man may believe himself to be as certain of his 
error as another of his truth." How many illustrious an- 
cients, under the influence of this conceit, may either have 
carried truth out of its proper sphere, or brought on some 
error to fill the place where the truth, so transferred, had 
left vacant. The Pagan philosophers held so great a vari- 
ety of opinions of the supreme good of the nature of man, 
that one of their most learned writers is said to have reck- 
oned the number to amount to no less than two hundred 
and eighty-eight.* 

Christianity ought to be accounted a singular blessing, 
were it only that it has simplified this conjectural arithme 
tic, and reduced the hundreds to a unit. St. Paul's brief, 
but comprehensive definition, " repentance towards God, 
and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ," forming one grand 
central point, in which, if all the vain aims and unsatisfied 
desires of the anxious philosophers do not meet, this succinct 
character of Christianity abundantly supplies what their 
aims and desires failed to accomplish; for "they erred, 
not knowing the Scriptures: those Scriptures which pro- 
claim the wants of man when they declare his depravity, 
and the power of God, in providing its only remedy." 

St. Paul labors sedulously to convince his converts of 
the apostasy of the human race. He knew this to be the 
only method of rendering the Scriptures either useful or 
intelligible; no other book having explicitly proclaimed or 
circumstantially unfolded this prime truth. He furnishes 
his followers with this key, that they might both unlock the 
otherwise hidden treasures of the Bible, and open the secret 
recesses of their own hearts. He knew that, without this 
strict inquisition into what was passing within, without this 
experimental knowledge of their own lapsed state, the best 
books may be read with little profit, and even prayer be 
offered up with little effect. 

He directs them to follow up this self-inspection, because 
without it they could not determine on the quality, even of 
their best actions. '" Examine yourselves; prove your own 
selves," is his frequent exhortation. He knew, that if we 

* Varro. 



306 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

did not impede the entrance of Divine light into our own 
hearts, it would show us many an unsuspected corruption; 
that it would not only disclose existing evils, but awaken 
the remembrance of former ones, of which perhaps the 
consequences still remain, though time and negligence 
have effaced the act itself from the memory. Whatever be 
the structure they intend to erect, the apostles always dig 
deep for a foundation before they begin to build. " On 
Jesus Christ, and him crucified," as on a broad basis, St. 
Paul builds all doctrine and grounds all practice; and firm 
indeed, must that foundation be, which has to sustain such 
a weight. He points to him as the sole author of justifying 
faith. From this doctrine he derives all sanctity, all duty, 
and all consolation. Afler having proved it to be produc- 
tive of that most solid of all supports, peace with God; this 
peace he promises, not only through the benignity of God, 
but through the grace of Christ, showing, by an induction 
of particulars, the process of this love of God in its moral 
effects, — how afflictions promote " patience," how patience 
fortifies the mind by "experience," and how experience 
generates "hope;" — reverting always in the end to that 
point from which he sets out; to that love of God, which is 
kindled in the heart by the operation of the Holy Spirit. 

He makes all true holiness to hinge on this fundamental 
doctrine of redemption by the Son of God, never separating 
his offices from his person, nor his example from his propi- 
tiation; never teaching that man's nature is to be reformed, 
without pointing out the instrument, and the manner by 
which the reformation is to be effected. For one great excel- 
lence of St. Paul's writings, consists, not only in his de- 
monstrating to us the riches and the glories of Christ, but 
in showing how they may be conveyed to us: how we may 
become possessed of an interest, of a right in them. 

Though there is no studied separations of the doctrinal 
from the practical parts of his Epistles, they who would 
enter most deeply into a clear apprehension of the former, 
would best do it by a strict obedience to the precepts of 
the latter. He every where shows, that the way to receive 
the truth is to obey it; and the way to obey is to love it. 
Nothing so effectually bars up the heart and even the un- 
derstanding, against the reception of truth, as the practice 
of sin. " If any man will do his will," says the Divine 
Teacher himself, " he shall know of the doctrine."* 

It is in this practical application of Divine truth, that 
the supreme excellence of St. Paul's preaching consists. 

* John vii. 17. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 307 

Whenever he has been largely expatiating on the glorious 
privileges of believers, he never omits to guard his doctrine 
from the use to which he probably foresaw loose professors 
might convert it, if delivered to the uninformed, stripped 
from the connection with its proper adjunct.* 

Thus, his doctrines are never barely theoretical. He 
hedges them in, as we have elsewhere observed, with the 
whole circle of duties, or with such as more immediately 
grow out of his subject, whether they relate to God, to 
others, or ourselves. Though it would not be easy to 
produce, in his writings, a single doctrine which is not so 
protected, nevertheless, perhaps, there is scarcely one, in 
the adoption of which, bold intruders have not leaped over 
the fence he raised; or by their negligence laid it bare for 
the unhallowed entrance of others, converting his in- 
closure into a waste. If the duty of living righteously, 
soberly, and godly, was ever pre-eminently taught by any 
instructer, that instructer is St. Paul; if ever the instruc- 
tions of any teacher have been strained or perverted, they 
are his. But if he never presses any virtue, as indepen- 
dent of faith, which is too much the case with some, he 
never fails to press it as a consequence of faith, which is 
sometimes neglected by others. • The one class preach 
faith as if it were an insulated doctrine ; the other, virtue, 
as if it were a self-originating principle. 

It is also worthy of observation, that in that complete 
code of evangelical law, the twelfth chapter of the Romans, 
after unfolding with the most lucid clearness, the great 
truths of our religion, he carefully inculcates the temper" it 
demands, before he proceeds to enforce the duties it im- 
poses; that we must be " holy " before we can be "ac- 
ceptable;" that we must be transformed in the renewing of 
our mind, is at once made a consequence of the grace of 
God, and a preliminary to our duties towards our fellow 
creatures. We must offer up "ourselves a living sacrifice 
to God," before we are directed to act conscientiously to 
man. The other disposition, which he names as an indis- 
pensable prelude, is humility ; for in the very opening of his 
subject, he prefaces it with an injunction, not to think of 
ourselves more highly than we ought to think. To omit to 
cultivate the spirit in which doctrines are to be embraced, 
and the temper in which duties are to be performed, is to 

* We learn from St. Peter, that this perversion had begun even in his own 
time. Ebion and his followers afterwards pushed the charge against Paul as 
far as antinomianism. Nor has the spirit of the accusation on the one hand, 
nor the adulteration of the principle on the other, entirely ceased. 



308 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

mutilate Christianity, and to rob it of its appropriate cha- 
racter and its highest grace. After having shown the 
means for the acquisition of virtue, he teaches us diUgently 
to solicit that divine aid, without which all means are in- 
effectual, and all virtues spurious. 

In this invaluable summary, or rather this spirit of 
Christian laws, there is scarcely any class of persons, to 
which some appropriate exhortation is not directed. After 
particularly addressing those who fill different degrees of 
the ministerial office, he proceeds to the more general 
instructions in which all are equally interested. Here, 
again, he does not fail to introduce his documents with 
some powerful principle. Affection and sincerity are the 
inward feelings which must regulate action; "let love he 
without dissimulation.^' 

The love he inculcates is of the most large and liberal 
kind; compassion to the indigent, tender sympathy with 
the feelings of others, whether of joy or sorrow, as their 
respective circumstances require; the duties of friendship 
and hospitality are not forgotten; condescension to infe- 
riors; a disposition to be at peace with all men is enforced; 
from his deep knowledge of the human heart, implying, 
however, by a significant parenthesis — if it be possible — the 
difficulty, if not impossibility, which its corruptions would 
bring to the establishment of universal discord. 

He applies himself to all the tender sensibilities of the 
heart, and concatenates the several fruits of charity so 
closely, from being aware how ready people are to deceive 
themselves on this article, and to make one branch of this 
comprehensive grace stand proxy for another: he knew 
that many are disposed to make almsgiving a ground for 
neglecting the less pleasant parts of charity; that some give, 
in order that they may rail, and think that while they open 
their purses, they need put no restraint on their tongues. 

He closes his catalogue of duties with those which we 
owe to our enemies; and in a paradox peculiar to the 
genius of Christianity, shows that the revengeful are the 
conquered, and those who have the magnanimity to for- 
give, the conquerors. He exhorts to this new and heroic 
species of victory over evil, not merely by exhibiting 
patience under it, but by overcoming its assaults with 
good. Could this conquest over nature, which soars far 
above mere forgiveness, be obtained by any other power 
but the supernatural strength previously communicated? 

Thus he every where demonstrates, that the maxims of 
the morality he inculcates, are derived from a full fountaui, 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL 309 

and fed by perennial supplies. When he speaks of human 
virtue, he never disconnects it from divine influence 
When he recommends the " perfecting hoHness," it must 
be done " in the fear of the Lord." He shows that there 
is no other way of conquering the love of the world, the 
allurements of pleasure, and the predominance of selfish- 
ness, but by seeking a conformity to the image of God, as 
well as by aiming at obedience to his law. 

That ignorance is the mother of devotion, has been the 
axiom of a superstitious church; nor is the votary of fanati- 
cism less apt to despise knowledge than the slave of su- 
perstition. 

The first thing that God formed in nature was light. This 
preliminary blessing disclosed the other beauties of his 
creation, which had else remained as unseen as if they had 
remained uncreated. By that analogy which runs through 
his works, his first operation on the heart is bestowing on 
it the light of his grace. Amidst the causes of the corrup- 
tion, the darkness of ignorance is scarcely to be distin- 
guished from that of sin. 

Such indeed is the condition of man in his present state, 
that he ought to labor indefatigably under the divine teach- 
ing, to recover some glimpses of that intellectual worth 
which he lost when he forfeited his spiritual excellence. 
Religious men should be diligent in obtaining knowledge, or 
they will not be able to resist gainsayers ; they will swallow 
assertions for truths, and conclude every objection to be 
valid which they cannot refute. An unfurnished mind is 
liable to a state of continual indecision. Error will have 
the advantage in the combat, where the champion of truth 
enters the field without arms; for impiety still shows itself, 
as it did in the garden of Eden, under the semblance of 
knowledge. 

St. Paul estimated just views and right notions of religion 
so highly, that he makes the improvement in knowledge in 
the Colossians, a matter not only of fervent desire, but of 
incessant prayer. He prays not only that they might be sin- 
cere, but intelligent Christians," filled with the knowledge of 
God's will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding;" but 
he does not forget to teach them that this knowledge nmst 
be made practical, iheij must walk worthy of the Lord, they 
must be fruitful in every o-ood work. It is among the high 
ascriptions of glory to Christ, that in Him arc hid all the 
treasures of ivisdom and knowledge. And this ascription is 
pressed upon us for the manifest purpose of impelling us to 
seek a due participation of Ihcm from him. 



310 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

St. Paul was a strenuous opposer of religious ignorance. 
It is not too much to say, that he places intelligence as ihe 
ground-work of Christianity. To know God, and Jesus 
Christ, whom he has sent, he considers as the first rudi- 
ments taught in the divine school. This knowledge can 
only be acquired by a cordial love, and indefatigable study 
of the volume of inspiration. All the conjectures of the 
brightest. imagination, all the discoveries of the profoundest 
science, all the glorious objects of created beauty, all the 
attributes of angels, all the ideas of excellence we can con- 
ceive or combine, affords but faint slTadows, inexpressive 
figures of the divinity. The best lights we can throw upon 
his perfections are from his own word, assisted by his own 
spirit; the clearest sight we can obtain of them is from our 
faith in that word, and our only strength from our ac- 
quiescence in the offers of that spirit. 

And where shall we look in the whole sacred record for 
a more consummate statement, at once of the proper ob- 
jects of knowledge, and of the duties resulting from its 
acquisition, than in the writings of this apostle.^ No one 
who has devoutly studied him, can shift off* the neglect 
of duty by the plea of ignorance. It would be vindicating 
one sin by committing another. He every where exhibits 
such luminous characters of God and Christ, such clear 
views of right, and wrong, such living pictures of good and 
evil, such striking contrastsof human corruption and Chris- 
tian purity, that he who would evade the condemnation 
which awaits the neglect, or the violation of duty, must pro- 
duce some other apology than that he did not know it. 
What excuse will those modern skeptics offer for their tra- 
ducement of writings, which they were too shrewd either 
to despise or neglect ? Whatever is good in their systems, 
they derive from a revelation which they affect to contemn. 
They are rich only from what they steal, not from that pro- 
perty which they may call their own. Reason, which could 
in nowise discover what Christianity has taught, is glad to 
adopt, while she disavows, what she could never have found 
out herself She has, however, too little honesty, and too 
much pride, to acknowledge her obligation to the source 
from which she draws. She mixes up what she best likes 
with her own materials, and defies the world, by separating 
them, to detect the cheat. Revelation, in truth, has im- 
proved reason, as well as perfected morals. 

But if the human reasoner despises Christianity, some 
Christians are too much disposed to vilify reason. This 
contempt thov did not learn of St. Paul. He never taught, 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 311 

that, to neglect an exact method of reasoning, would make 
men sounder divines. No such consequences can be de- 
duced from his writings. Revealed religion, indeed, hap- 
pily for the poor and illiterate, may be firmly believed, and 
vitally understood, without a very accurate judgment, or 
any high cultivation of the rational powers. But without 
both, without a thorough acquaintance with the arguments, 
without a knowledge of the evidences, it can never be 
successfully defended. Ignorance on these points would 
throw such a weight into the scale of skepticism, as would 
weaken, if it did not betray, the cause of truth. In our 
days an ignorant teacher of religion is " a workman that 
needeih to be ashamed." He should carefully cultivate his 
reason, were it only to convince himself of its imperfection. 
The more he proceeds under the guidance of God's spirit 
to improve his rational faculties, the more he will discover 
their insufficiency: and his humility striking its root more 
deeply as his knowledge shoots higher, he will become 
more profoundly thankful for that divine revelation, which 
alone can satisfy the desires of his mind, and fill the crav- 
ings of his heart. 

Some well-meaning instructers have pleaded, in jus- 
tification of their low attainments, St. Paul's exaltation of 
"the foolishness of preaching to save them that believe." 
" It was," says a learned divine, " a mode not unusual with 
St. Paul, to call a thing, not by a term descriptive of its 
real nature, but by a name expressive of the opinion formed 
of it by the world, and of the effects produced by it." — 
In calling the Gospel foolishness, therefore, he only adopted 
the language of the Greeks, its Pagan enemies. It was 
" the natural man," to whom the things of the spirit of 
God were foolishness. The expression, therefore, offers 
no apology for nonsense, no plea for ignorance. However, 
the humility of Paul might lead him to depreciate "the 
wisdom of his own words," he has left us the means' of 
knowing that they were of the very first excellence. He 
depreciates, it is true, all eloquence, whether true or false, 
which was adopted as a substitute "for the cross of Christ." 
He would indeed reprobate the idea of loading a discourse 
with ornaments, which might draw the attention of the 
audience from the Saviour to the preacher, which by its 
splendor might cast into shade the object he was bound to 
reveal; which might throw into the back ground that Cross 
which should ever be the prominent figure. But though, 
in establishing the doctrine of the Cross, God accomplish- 
ed a promise of long standing, and frequent rci)etitioH that 



312 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

he would " destroy the wisdom of the wise, and bring to 
nothing the understanding of the prudent," yet there is no 
promise that ignorance or folly shall be erected on the 
ruins of wisdom; the promise runs, that the wisdom from 
above shall supersede the pride of human wisdom. 

One of the fundamental truths which the apostle labors 
to establish, is, that the attainment of divine knowledge, 
progress in holiness, conquest over sin, with all other 
spiritual gains, are only to be effected by the power of the 
Spirit of God. This doctrine, the importance of which 
he every where intimates, he more explicitly teaches in the 
eighth chapter of Romans. This conviction, which he felt 
deeply, he paints forcibly. Yet, though insisted on with 
such frequency and emphasis, many receive this as a spe- 
culative dogma, instead of a highly practical truth. Many 
distrust the reality of this power, or if they allow its exis- 
tence, they disbelieve its agency. 

This tenet, however, so slightly regarded, is in every 
part of the New Testament, not barely noticed by allusion, 
but incessantly either peremptorily asserted, or constantly 
assumed. Would the apostle repeatedly refer us, as the 
only deliverer from sin, to an ideal person! Would he 
mock us by a bare statement of such a power, and an un- 
meaning promise of such a deliverance, without directing 
us how it is to be obtained? The fervent habitual prayer 
of faith is the mean suggested. It is rational to suppose 
that spiritual aid must be attained by a spiritual act. God 
is a Spirit. Spirit and truth are the requisites expected 
in his worshippers. Though this doctrine is insisted on 
not less than tivelve times in this chapter only, there is not 
one tenet of Christianity, in the adoption of which, the 
generality are more reluctant. 

It is unreasonable for us to say, we disbelieve the possi- 
bility of the operation of the Holy Spirit, because we do not 
understand when, or in what manner it acts, while we remain 
in such complete ignorance how our own spirits act within 
ourselves. It is proof sufficient, that we see its result, that 
we perceive the effect of this mysterious operation, in the 
actual change of the human heart. Our sense of our inter- 
nal weakness, must convince us, that it is not effected by 
any power of our own. The humble cannot but feci this 
truth, the ingenuous cannot but acknowledge it. Let us be 
assured, that Infinite Wisdom, which knows how v^e are 
constituted, and what are our wants, knows how his own 
spirit assists those who earnestly implore its aid 

St Paul powerfullv inculcates that new and fepiritual 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 313 

worship which was so condescendingly and beautifully 
taught by the Divine Teacher, at the well of Sychar, when 
he declared that the splendors of the temple worship, hith- 
erto performed exclusively in one distinguished place, 
should be abolished, and the cumbrous ceremonies and 
fatiguing forms of the Jewish ritual set aside, to make way 
for a purer mode of adoration ; when the contrite heart was 
to supersede the costly sacrifice, and God should be wor- 
shipped in a way more suited to his spiritual nature.* 

Yet, even here, the wise moderation of Paul is visible. 
He did not manifest his dislike of one extreme point by fly- 
ing to the antipodes of opposition: when ostentatious rites 
were pronounced to be no longer necessary, he did not 
adopt, like some other reformers, the contrary excess of 
irregularity and confusion. While the internal principle 
was the great concern, the outward appendage must be 
decorous. To keep the exterior " decent" and "orderly," 
was emblematical of the purity and regularity within! 

While Paul's severe reproof of the confusion and irregu- 
larities, which disgraced the church of Corinth, proves 
him to be a decided enemy to the distempers of spiritual 
vanity and enthusiasm; he does not, like a worldly reprov- 
er, seize the occasion given by their imprudence to treat 
with levity the power of religion itself; he does not lay hold 
on the error he condemns for a pretence to deride true zeal, 
and to render ridiculous the gifts which had been indecent- 
ly abused. On the contrary, he observes how improperly 
these gifts and supernatural powers had been used by some 
on whom they were conferred; who, he laments, were more 
anxious to eclipse each other in these showy distinctions, 
than to convert them to the purposes of practical use and 
excellence; advises, that " spiritual gifts " may be direct- 
ed to their true end; "that he may excel to the edifying 
of the church;" gently reminds the offenders, that they 
themselves were nothing more than vehicles and organs of 
the operation of the spirit. While he insinuates that, were 
these miraculous powers their sole distinction, it might be 
doubtful by what specific mark to recognise in them the 
genuine Christian; he removes the difficulty, by showing 
them there was a more excellent way, by which they might 
most indisputably make out their title. This " way," which 
is now as it was then, the discriminating characteristic of 
the true believer, is Charity; all the properties of which he 
describes, not for their instruction only, but for ours also 

* Gospel of St. John, chap. iv. 

14 



314 ESSAY ON ST, PAUL 

If the apostle has here, on the one hand, furnished no 
example or apology for enthusiasm and eccentricity; if the 
solidity of his piety, and the sobriety of his mind, are uni- 
formly opposed to the unprofitable fervors of fanaticism, 
both in doctrine and conduct, yet on the other hand his 
life and writings are quite as little favorable to a more for- 
midable, because a less suspected and more* common evil, 
— we mean indifference. Coldness and inefficiency, in- 
deed, are, in the estimation of some persons, reputable, or 
at least safe qualities, and often obtain the honorable name 
of prudence; but to St, Paul it was not enough that nothing 
wrong was done; he considered it reproach sufficient that 
nothing was done. 

He sometimes intrenches himself in the honest severity 
which his integrity compels him to exercise against the 
opposers of vital Christianity, by adducing some pointed 
censure against them from men of their own party or 
country. For instance, when he condemns, in his letter 
to their new bishop, Titus, the luxurious, avaricious, and 
slothful Cretans, he corroborates the truth of his testimony 
by the authority of one of their own poets, or prophets. 
These slow sensualists, these indulgers of appetite, these 
masters of ceremonies, he not only stigmatizes himself, but 
adds to his pagan quotation, " This witness is true." And it 
may be adduced as a striking instance of his discriminating 
mode of church government, that this wise ecclesiastical 
ruler, who had before exhorted Timothy, the bishop of 
another church, to "be gentle unto all men, meekly in- 
structing those who oppose themselves," now directs Titus 
to " rebuke sharply," these temporizing teachers, and 
unholy livers. 

He saw that a grave and sedate indolence, investing 
itself with the respectable attribute of moderation, eats out 
the very heart's core of piety. He knew that these som- 
nolent characters communicate the repose which they en- 
joy; that they excite no alarm, because they feel none. 
Their tale of observances is regularly brought in; their 
list of forms, is completely made out. Forms, it is true, are 
valuable things, when they are " used as a dead hedge to 
secure the quick;" but here the observances are rested in; 
here the forms are the whole of the fence. The dead 
fence is not considered as a protection; but a substitute. 
The teacher and the taught, neither disturbing nor disturb- 
ed, but soothing and soothed, reciprocate civilities, ex- 
change commendations. If little good is done, it is well; 
if no offence is given, it is better; if no superfluity of zeal 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 315 

be imputed, it is best of all. The apostle felt what the 
prophet expressed, — "My people love to have it so." 

Perhaps the sum and substance of the duties of a Chris- 
tian minister, to which there is also a reference in this 
chapter, was never compressed into so small a compass as 
in his charge to his beloved Titus;* — "In all things 
showing thijself a jmltern of good works. In doctrine show- 
ing uncorruptness , gravihj, sincerity, sound speech.''' 

We see here, in a few significant words, a rule of conduct 
and of instruction which is susceptible of the widest ex- 
pansion. The most elaborate paraphrase will add little to 
the substantial worth of this brief monition. Every instruc- 
ter must furnish his own practical commentary, by trans- 
ferring into his life the pattern, and into his preaching the 
precept. He adds, the sure effect of a life and doctrine 
so correct will be to silence calumny; the adversary of 
rehgion v/ill be ashamed of his enmity when he sees the 
purity of its professor defeat all attempts to discredit him. 

It is a truth, verified in every age of the church, that the 
doctrines which Paul preached, stood in direct opposition 
to the natural dispositions of man ; they militated against 
his corrupt affections; they tended to subdue what had 
been hitherto invincible, — the stubborn human will; to 
plant self-denial where self-love had before overrun the 
ground. To convince of sin, to point to the Saviour, to 
perfect holiness, yet to exclude boasting, are the apostle's 
invariable objects. These topics he urges by every power 
of argument, by every charm of persuasion; by every in- 
junction to the preacher, by every motive to the hearer; 
but these injunctions, neither argument, persuasion, nor 
motive, can ever render engaging. Man loves to have his 
corruptions soothed; it is the object of the apostle to combat 
them: man would have his errors indulged; it is the object 
of the religion which Paul preached, to eradicate them. 

Of the dislike excited against the loyal ambassadors of 
the Gospel, by those who live in opposition to its doctrines, 
our common experience furnishes us with no unapt emblem! 
When we have a piece of unwelcome news to report, we 
prepare the hearer by a soothing introduction; we break 
his fall by some softening circumstance; we invent some 
conciliatory preamble: he listens; he distrusts— but we ar- 
rive at the painful truth;— the secret is out, the preparation 
is absorbed in the realit}-, the evil remains in its full force; 
nothing but the painful fact is seen, heard, or felt 



♦ Titus ch. 2. 



316 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

" Tliy news liath made thee a most ugly man." 

The apostle knew that it would afford little comfort to 
the humble Christian to talk of the mercy of God in the 
abstract, and the forgiveness of sins in vague and general 
terms. He persuades the believer to endeavor to obtain 
evidence of his own interest in this great salvation. The 
fountain of forgiveness may flow, but if the current reach 
not to us, if we have no personal interest in the offered re- 
demption, if we do not individually seek communion with 
the Father of Spirits, the Saviour of the world will not be 
our Saviour. But that he might not give false comfort, 
Paul, when he wishes "peace" wishes "grace" also; 
this last he always places first in order, knowing that, before 
the peace can be solid, it must have grace for its precursor. 
The character of the peace which he recommends is of the 
highest order of blessings. The peace which nations make 
with each other, frequently includes no more than that 
they will do each other no evil; but " the peace of God," 
insures to us all that is good, by keeping our hearts and 
minds in the love and knowledge of the Father, and of his 
Son Jesus Christ! 

In regard to St. Paul's ecclesiastical polity, we are aware 
that some persons, with a view to lower the general useful- 
ness of his Epistles, object, that in many instances, espe- 
cially in the second to the Corinthians, the apostle has 
limited his instructions to usages which relate only to the 
peculiar concerns of a particular church or individual per- 
son, and that they might have been spared in a work meant 
for general edification. 

But these are not, as some insist, mere local controver- 
sies, obsolete disputes, with which we have no concern. 
Societies, as well as the individuals of whom they are com- 
posed, are much the same in all periods; and though the 
contentions of the churches which he addressed might dif- 
fer something in matter, and much in form and ceremony, 
from those of modern date; yet the spirit of division, of 
animosity, of error, of opposition, with which all churches 
are more or less infected, will have such a common resem- 
blance in all ages, as may make us submit to take a hint or 
a caution even from topics which may seem foreign to our 
concerns; and it adds to the value of St. Paul's expostula- 
tion, that they may be made in some degree applicable to 
other cases. His directions are minute, as well as general, 
so as scarcely to leave any of the incidents of life, or the 
exigencies of society, totally unprovided for. 

There are, it is obvious, certain things which refer to 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 317 

particular usages of the general church, at its first institu- 
tion, which no longer exist. There are frequent references 
to the extraordinary gifts of the Spirit, and other circum- 
stances, which though they have now ceased, are of great 
importance, as connected with its history, and assisting in 
its first formation; and the writer who had neglected to 
have recorded them would have been blamable, and the 
Epistles which had not alluded to them would have been 
imperfect. 

While the apostle made ample provisions, such as the 
existing case required, or rather permitted, he did not ab- 
solutely legislate, as to external things, for any church; 
wisely leaving Christianity at liberty to incorporate herself 
with the laws of any country into which she might be intro- 
duced; and while the doctrines of the new religion were pre- 
cise, distinct, and definite, its ecclesiastical character was 
of that generalized nature which would allow it to mix with 
any form of national government. This was a likely means 
both to promote its extension, and to prevent it from imbib- 
ing a political temper, or a spirit of interference with the 
secular concerns of any country. 

The wonder is, that the work is so little local, that it 
savors so little of Antioch or Jerusalem, of Philippi or Co- 
rinth; but that almost all is of such general application: 
relative circumstances did indeed operate, but they always 
operated subordinately. The Epistle to the Ephesians is 
not marked with one local peculiarity. There is not a 
single deduction to be made from the universal applicable- 
ness of this elegant and powerful epitome of the Gospel. 

St. Paul belongs not particularly to the period in which 
he lived, but is equally the property of each successive race 
of beings. Time does not diminish their interest in him. 
He is as fresh to every century as to his own; and the 
truths he preaches will be as intimately connected with 
that age which shall precede the dissolution of the world, 
as that in which he wrote. The sympathies of the real be- 
liever will always be equally awakened by doctrines which 
will equally apply to their consciences, by principles which 
will always have a reference to their practice, by promises 
which will always carry consolation to their hearts. By 
the Christians of all countries Paul will be considered as 
a cosmopolite, and by those of all ages as a contemporary. 
Even when he addresses individuals, his point of view is 
mankind. He looked to the world as his scene, and to 
collective man as the actor. 



318 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

CHAP. X. 

The Style and Genius of St. Paul. 

Though St. Paul frequently alludes to the variety of his 
sufferings, yet he never dwells upon them. He does not 
take advantage of the liberty so allowable in friendly letters 
— that of endeavoring to excite compassion by those minute 
details of distress, of which, but for their relation in the 
Acts of the Apostles, we should have been mainly ignorant 

How would any other writer than the apostle have inter- 
woven a full statement of his trials with his instructions, 
and how would he have indulged an egotism, not only so 
natural and so pardonable, but which has been so accepta- 
ble in those good men who have given us histories of their 
own life and times. That intermixture, however, which 
excites so lively an interest, and is so proper in Clarendon 
and Baxter, would have been misplaced here. It would 
have served to gratify curiosity, but might not seem to 
comport with the grave plan of instruction adopted by the 
apostle; whilst it comes with admirable grace from St. 
Luke, his companion in travel. 

St. Paul's manner of writing will be found in every way 
worthy of the greatness of his subject. His powerful and 
diversified character of mind, seems to have combined the 
separate excellences of all the other sacred authors — the 
loftiness of Isaiah, the devotion of David, the pathos of 
Jeremiah, the vehemence of Ezekiel, the didactic gravity 
of Moses, the elevated morality and practical good sense, 
though somewhat highly colored, of St. James; the sublime 
conceptions and deep views of St. John, the noble energies 
and burning zeal of St, Peter. To all these, he added his 
own strong argumentative powers, depth of thought and in- 
tensity of feeling. In every single department he was emi- 
nently gifted; so that what Livy said of Cato, might with far 
greater truth have been asserted of Paul, — that you would 
think him born for the single thing in which he was engaged. 

We have observed in an early chapter, that in the evan- 
gelists, the naked majesty of truth refused to owe anything 
to the artifices of composition. In Paul's Epistle a due, 
though less strict degree of simplicity is observed; differ- 
ing in style from the other as the comment from the text, 
a letter from a history ; taking the same ground as to doc- 



ESSAY OX ST. PAUL. 319 

trine, devotion, and duty, yet branching out into a wider 
range, breaking the subject into more parts, and giving 
results instead of facts. 

Though more at hberty, Paul makes a sober use of his 
privilege; though never ambitious of ornament, his style is 
as much varied as his subject, and always adapted to it. 
He is by turns vehement and tender, and sometimes both at 
once; impassioned and didactic; now pursuing his point 
with a logical exactness, now disdaining the rules of which 
he was a master; often making his noble neglect more im- 
pressive than the most correct arrangement, his irregularity 
more touching than the most lucid order. He is often ab- 
rupt, and sometimes obscure: his reasoning, though gener- 
ally clear, is, as the best critics allow, sometimes involved, 
perhaps owing to the suddenness of his transitions, the 
rapidity of his ideas, the sensibility of his soul. 

But complicated as his meaning may occasionally appear, 
all his complications are capable of being analyzed into 
principles; so that from his most intricate trains of reason- 
ing, the most unlearned reader may select an unconnected 
maxim of wisdom, a position of piety, an aphorism of virtue, 
easy from its brevity, intelligible from its clearness, and 
valuable from its weight. 

An apparent, though not unpleasing, disconnection in 
his sentences is sometimes found to arise from the absence 
of the conjunctive parts of speech. He is so afiluent in 
ideas, the images which crowd in upon him are so thick- 
set; that he could not stop their course while he might 
tie them together. This absence of the connecting links, 
which in a meaner writer might have induced a want of 
perspicuity, adds energy and force to the expression of so 
spirited and clear-sighted a writer as our apostle. In the 
sixth chapter of the second of Corinthians, there are six 
consecutive verses without one conjunction. Such a par- 
ticle would have enfeebled the spirit, without clearing the 
sense. The variety which these verses, all making up but 
one period, exhibit, the mass of thought, the diversity of 
object, the impetuosity of march, make it impossible to read 
them without catching something of the fervor with which 
they are written. They seem to set the pulse in motion 
with a corresponding quicknogs; and without amplification 
seem to expand the mind of the reader into all the immen- 
sity of space and time. 

Nothing is diffused into weakness. If his conciseness 
may be thought, in a very few instances, to take something 
from his clearness, it is more than made up in force. Con- 



320 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

densed as liis thoughts are, the inexhaustible instructions 
that may be deduced from them, prove at what expansion 
they are susceptible. His compression has an energy, his 
imagery a spirit, his diction an impetuosity, which art would 
in vain labor to mend. His straight-forward sense makes 
his way to the heart more surely than theirs, who go out 
of their road for ornament. He never interrupts the race 
to pick up the golden bait. 

Our apostle, when he has not leisure for reflection him 
self, almost by imperceptible methods invites his reader to 
reflect. When he appears only to skim a subject, he will 
suggest ample food for long-dwelling meditation. Every 
sentence is pregnant with thought, is abundant in instruc- 
tion. Witness the many thousands of sermons which have 
sprung from these comparatively few, but most prolific 
seeds. Thus, if he does not visibly pursue the march of 
eloquence by the critic's path, he never fails to attain its 
noblest ends. He is full without difluseness, copious with- 
out redundance. His eloquence is not a smooth and flow- 
ing oil, which lubricates the surface, but a sharp instru- 
ment which makes a deep incision. It penetrates to the 
dissection of the inmost soul, " to the dividing asunder 
of the soul and spirit, and is a discerner of the thoughts 
and intentions of the heart." 

The numerous and long digressions often found, and 
sometimes complained of, in this great writer, never make 
him lose sight of the point from which he sets out, and the 
mark to which he is tending. From his most discursive 
flights he never fails to bring home some added strength to 
the truth with which he begins; and when he is longest on 
the wing, or loftiest in his ascent, he comes back to his 
subject enriched with additional matter, and animated with 
redoubled vigor. This is particularly exemplified in the 
third chapter of the Ephesians, of which the whole is one 
entire parenthesis, eminently abounding in eflfusions of 
humility, hohness, and love, and in the rich display of the 
Redeemer's grace. 

In the prosecution of any discourse, though there may 
appear little method, he has frequently, besides the topic 
immediately in hand, some point to bring forward, not di- 
rectly, but in an incidental, yet most impressive manner. 
At the moment when he seems to wander from the direct 
line of his pursuit, the object which he still has had in 
his own view, unexpectedly starts up before that of his 
hearer. In the recapitulation of the events of his life be- 
fore Festus and Agrippa, when nothing of doctrine appears 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 321 

to be on his mind; he suddenly breaks out, " Why should 
it be thought a thing incredible with you, that God should 
raise the dead?" He then resumes his narrative as rapidly 
as he had flown off from it; but returns to his doctrine at 
the close, with the additional circumstance, that " Christ 
was the first that should rise from the dead;" — as if, having 
before put the question in the abstract, he had been since 
paving the way for the establishment of the fact. 

St. Paul is happy in a mode of brief allusion, and in the 
art of awakening recollection by hints. It is observable 
often, how little time he wastes in narrative, and how much 
matter he presses into a few words; " Ye, brethren, have 
suffered the like things of your own countrymen, even as 
they have of the Jews; who both killed the Lord Jesus 
and their own prophets, and have persecuted us; and they 
please not God, and are contrary to all men, — forbidding 
us to speak to the Gentiles that they might be saved; to fill 
up their sins always — for the wrath is come upon them to 
the utmost." What a quantity of history does this sketch 
present! What a picture of their character, their crimes, 
and their punishment! 

Nor does this brevity often trench on his explicitness. In 
the fifth chapter of the first Thessalonians, from the four- 
teenth to the twentieth verse, there are no fewer than 
.seventeen fundamental, moral, and religious monitions, 
comprising almost all the duties of a Christian life, in the 
space of a few lines. The selection of his words is as apt, 
as his enumeration of duties is just. He beseeches his con- 
verts " to know them that are over them, and very highly 
to esteem them in love for their works' sake;" while to the 
performance of every personal, social, and religious duty, 
he exhorts them. 

The correctness of his judgment appears still more vis- 
ibly in the aptness and propriety of all his allusions, met- 
aphors, and figures. In his Epistle to the Hebrews, he 
illustrates and enforces the new doctrine by reasonings 
drawn from a reference to the rites, ceremonies, and econ- 
omy of the now obsolete dispensation; sending them back 
to the records of their early Scriptures. Again, he does 
not talk of the Isthmian games to the Romans, nor to the 
Greeks of adoption. The latter term he judiciously uses 
to the Romans, to whom it was familiar, and explains, by 
the use of it, the doctrines of the grace of God in their 
redemption, their adoption as his chiklrcn, and their "in- 
heritance with the saints in light;" on the other hand, the 
illustration borrowed from the rigorous abstinence which 



322 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

was practised by the competitors in the Grecian games; to 
fit them for athletic exercises, would convey to the most 
illiterate inhabitant of Achaia, a lively idea of the subjuga- 
tion of appetite required in the Christian combatant. The 
close of this last mentioned analogy by the apostle, opens 
a large field for instruction, by a brief but beautiful com- 
parison, between the value and duration of the fading gar- 
land worn by the victorious Greek, with the incorruptible 
crown of the Christian conqueror. 

But whether it be a metaphor or illustration, or allusion, 
lie seldom fails to draw from it some practical inference for 
his own humiliation. In the present case he winds up the 
subject with a salutary fear, in which all who are engaged 
in the religious instruction of others are deeply interested. 
So far is he from self-confidence or self-satisfaction, be- 
cause he lives in the constant habit of improving others, 
that he adduces the very practice of this duty as a ground 
of caution to himself He appropriates to himself a gen- 
eral possibility, "lest that by any means when I have 
preached to others, I myself should be a castaway." 

Another metaphor, to which for its peculiarity we cannot 
help making a distinct reference, occurs in the twelfth 
chapter of the first of Corinthians. The figure with which 
he there instructs the church of Corinth in the nature, 
use, and variety of spiritual gifts, whilst it bears a strong 
resemblance to the celebrated apologue with which Mene- 
nius Agrippa appeased the tumult of the Roman populace 
in the infancy of the consular government, is still much 
superior to it. St. Paul reproves their dissensions in a 
long chain of argument, where he illustrates the wisdom 
of the Holy Spirit in his distribution of gifts, by a similitude 
taken from the component parts of the human body ; which, 
though distinct and various, make up by union one harmo- 
nious whole. He explains their incorporation into Christ, 
by the interest which the body has in the several members, 
each of which by its specific office contributes to the gene- 
ral good. He proves the excellence of the dispensation to 
consist in that very variety which had produced the con- 
tention; and shows that, had the same powers been given 
to all, the union would have been broken as each portion 
would have been useless in a state of detachment from the 
rest, which now contributed to the general organization of 
the human frame. 

As an orator, Paul unquestionably stands in the foremost 
rank. When the renowned Athenian so "wielded the 
fierce democracy," as to animate with one common senti- 



ESSAY OV ST. PAUL. 323 

ment the whole assembly against Philip; when his great 
rival stirred up the Roman senate against their oppressors, 
and by the power of his eloquence made Catiline contemp- 
tible, and Anthony detestable; they had every thing in 
their favor. Their character was established: each held a 
distinguished office in the state. They stood on the van- 
tage-ground of the highest rank and reputation. When 
they spoke, admiration stood waiting to applaud. Their 
characters commanded attention. Their subject ensured 
approbation. Each, too, had the advantage of addressing 
his own friends, his own countrymen — men of the same re- 
ligious and political habits with themselves. Before they 
started, they had already pre-occupied half the road to 
success and glory. 

Now turn to Paul! — A stranger, poor, persecuted, un- 
protected, unsupported — despised before-hand, whether he 
were considered as a Jew or a Christian; solitary, defence- 
less, degraded even to chains — yet did he make the preju- 
diced king vacillate in his opinion, the unjust judge tremble 
on his seat. The apostle of the Gentiles owed none of his 
success to an appeal to the corrupt passions of his audi- 
ence. Demosthenes and Cicero, it must be confessed, by 
their arguments and their eloquence, but not a little also 
by their railing and invective, kindled strong emotions in 
the minds of their respective audiences. Now these vitu- 
perations, it must be remembered, were applied to other 
persons, not to the hearers, — and men find a wonderful 
facility in admiring satire not directed at themselves. But 
in the case of St. Paul, the very persons addressed were 
at once the accused and the judges. The auditors were to 
apply the searching truths to their own hearts; to look in- 
ward on the mortifying spectacle of their own errors and 
vices: so that the apostle had the feelings of the hearers 
completely againi?t him, whilst the Pagan orator had those 
of his audience already on his side. 

To crown all, St. Paul has nobly exemplified the rule of 
Q^uinctilian. He owed the best part of his oratory to his 
being a "good man," as well as a good speaker. "Other- 
wise," says that great critic, " though the orator may amuse 
the imagination, he will never reach the heart." 

Conviction was the soul of his eloquence. He has no 
hesitation in his religious discussions. Whenever he sum- 
moned the attributes of his mind to council, decision always 
presided. His doctrines had a fixed system. There was 
nothing conjectural in his scheme. His mind was never 
erratic for want of a centre. "Josus Christ, the same ves- 



324 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

terday, to-day, and for ever, — with whom is no variable- 
ness, neither shadow of turning," is the sun of his system, 
and round this centre every doctrine issuing from his Hps^ 
every grace beaming in his soul, moved harmoniously. 
Whilst he did not, like the exploded philosophy, invert 
order, by making the orb of day dependent on the lesser 
fires, which owe to him whatever light and heat they pos- 
sess; he did not shrink, like the restorer of astronomical 
truth, from the most decisive and effectual avowal of his 
opinions. It is curious to observe that both these persons 
shared a similar fate. The astronomer was rewarded for 
his discoveries, with being thrown into prison by a pontiff 
of Rome; for the diffusion of moral light, the apostle was 
thrown into prison by an emperor of Rome. But mark, in 
the sequel, the superior influence of revealed truth over 
the conduct, to that of the clearest and best founded de- 
ductions of human reason. The philosopher was irreso- 
lute! the apostle persevered, Copernicus recanted what 
he knew to be truth, and was set free; Paul disdained lib- 
erty upon such terms and was put to death. 

This resolute avowal, this predominant conviction of the 
sublimest of truths, enabled St. Paul to throw into his elo- 
quence a heart and a life unknown to other orators: " as a 
dying man, he spoke to dying men;" and pleaded to the 
feelings of immortal beings for the life of their souls. Oth- 
ers have selected noble objects, objects well worthy their 
genius and their zeal, — the love of their country, liberty, 
and life. Paul embraced the same topics, but how enno- 
bled in their nature! He taught his hearers "to desire a 
better country, that is, an heavenly." He showed them 
"the liberty wherewith Christ had made them free." He 
pointed them to " life everlasting." 

In the various counsels or reproofs founded upon these 
divine doctrines, can we be surprised at the frequent inter- 
ruption of an ejaculation or an apostrophe which he seems 
wholly unable to repress? Often do we participate those 
feelings which, as it were, break in upon his most subdued 
moments, and impel him to magnify that name, which is 
above every name, with ascription of glory, and honor and 
praise, and sainted adoration: with a kindred joy and 
elevation of soul, we seem to make even the most highly 
wrought devotional and practical eflusions of so great a 
writer our own: and so far from coldly condemning what 
we almost believe our own, we realize something of the 
observation of the finest critic of antiquity, "that when 
the mind is raised by the true sublime, it rejoices and glo- 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 325 

ries as if itself had produced what it had so much delight 
in contemplating." " No real Christian can read the doc- 
trinal part of the Epistle to the Ephesians, without being 
impressed and roused by it, as by the sound of a trumpet. "^^ 

David, between whose temper and genius, and those of 
St. Paul, there seems to have been a great resemblance, 
frequently manifests the same inextinguishable energy of 
soul. His heart, like that of the apostle, is hot within him; 
the fire burns while he is musing. Many of the Psalms 
under such an influence become only one varied strain of 
laudatory prayer. In the nineteenth, for instance, he 
breaks out in admiration of the divine law, almost to ap- 
pearance on a sudden, and in such an inexhaustible diver- 
sity of expression, as if he could never unburden the fulness 
of his overflowing heart. He describes it in no less than 
six different forms of perfection: and with every form, still 
resembling his great fellow-saint of after-ages, he connects 
a practical deduction. Thus by infinite variety he proves 
that his mental opulence is above tautology, and at the 
same time shows that spiritual riches should be devoted to 
moral purposes. "The law of the Lord so extolled, con- 
verts the soul, — gives wisdom to the simple, — rejoices the 
heart, — gives light to the eyes, — is not only true, but righ- 
teous altogether." 

If Paul indulges the glowing expression of his own grat- 
itude, it is to communicate the sacred flame to those he 
addresses; if he triumphs in " the enlargement of his own 
heart," it is because he hopes by the infection of a holy 
sympatliy to enlarge theirs. In catching, however, the 
sacred flame, let us never forget that, in his warmest ad- 
dresses, in his most ardent expressions of grateful love to 
his God and his Saviour, he never loses sight of that sober- 
ness and gravity which becomes both his subject and his 
character. It is the King eternal, immortal, invisible — the 
blessed and only Potentate — King of kitigs, Lord of lords, — 
He ivlio hath immortalitij — who dwelleth in the light that no 
man can approach unto, — He, who hath honor and power ever- 
lasting, to whom, and of whom, he feels himself to speak. 

May we venture to express a wish, that some persons of 
more piety and discernment, among whom there are those 
who value themselves on being more particularly the dis- 
ciples of St. Paul, would always imitate his chastised lan- 
guage. When the apostle pours out the fulness of his 
heart to his Redeemer, every expression is as full of vene- 
ration as of love. His freedom is a filial freedom, while 

♦ Macknight's Preface. 



326 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

theii devout effusions are sometimes mixed with adjectives, 
which betrays a familiarity bordering on irreverence.* 

" If I am a father, where is mine honor: if I am a mas- 
ter, where is my fear?" They may indeed say with truth 
that they are invited to come boldly to the throne of grace. 
But does not the very word throne imply majesty on the 
one part, and prostration on the other? Is not "God 
manifest in the flesh" sometimes treated with a freedom, I 
had almost said a fondness, in which the divine part of his 
nature seems to be swallowed up in the human? Coarse- 
ness of whatever kind, may, it is true, be palliated by piety, 
but is never countenanced by it: it has no affinity to piety; 
it is only as the iron and the clay at the foot of the magnifi- 
cent image, and is just so far removed from the true refine- 
ment and golden sanctity of taste, which will be learned 
by a due study of the first of models. If the persons so 
offending should plead warmth of affection, their plea will 
be admitted as valid, if in this feeling they can prove their 
superiority to their great master. In our own admirable 
church service, this scriptural soberness of style is most 
judiciously adopted, and uniformly maintained. Portions 
of it are indeed addressed to the Second Person in the 
blessed Trinity; but we look m vain for any familiar ex- 
pression, any distinguishing appellative. 

Much less do St. Paul's writings present an example to 
another and more elegant class, the learned speculatists 
of the German school, as recently presented to us by their 
eloquent and accomplished eulogist. Some of these have 
fallen into the opposite extreme of religious refinement; 
too airy to be tangible, too mystic to be intelligible. The 
apostle's religion is not like theirs, a shadowy sentiment, 
but a vital principle; not a matter of taste, but of conviction, 
of faith, of feeling. It is not a fair idea, but a holy affection. 
The deity at which they catch, is a gay and gorgeous cloud; 
Paul's is the fountain of light. His religion is definite 
and substantial, and more profound than splendid. It 
is not a panegyric on Christianity, but a homage to it. 

He is too devout to be ingenious, too earnest to be fan- 
ciful, too humble to be inventive. His sober mind could 
discern no analogy between the sublime truths of Chris- 
tianity and "the fine arts." Nor would he have com- 
pared the awful mysteries of the religion of Jesus with 
those of " free masonry," any more than he would have 
run a labored parallel with the mysteries of Eleusis, or the 

* This remark applies more particularly to certain Hymns written in a 
verv devout .strain, but with a devotion rather amatory tlian reverential. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 327 

Eona Dea. Nor does he love to illustrate the word of 
God by any thing but his works. His truth has no shades; 
in him, whatever is right is absolute. Nor does he ever 
make error perform the work of truth, by ascribing to 
" enthusiasm " any of the good effects of religion. In the 
celestial armory of Christianity no such spiritual weapons 
as enthusiasm or error are to be found. 

Had the apostle placed the doctrines of revelation as con- 
genial associates with the talent of poets and artists, he 
would have thought not only that it was a degradation of 
the principle of our faith, but an impeachment of the divine 
dispwisations. God would have all men to be saved; Christ 
would have the Gospel preached to every creature. Now 
if we compare the very small minority of ethereal spirits, 
who. are fed by genius, who subsist on the luxuries of im- 
agination, who are nurtured by music, who revel in poetry 
and sculpture, with the innumerable multitudes who have 
scarcely heard whether there be any such thing, — such a 
limited, such a whimsical, such an unintelligible, such an 
unattainable Christianity, would rob the mass of mankind 
of all present comfort, of all future hope. Paul would have 
thought it a mockery, when the Holy Spirit could alone help 
their infirmities, to have sent them to the Muses. To refer 
them to the statuary when they were craving for the bread 
of life, would be literally " giving them stones for bread." 
Nor would he have derided the wants of those who were 
" thirsting for living water," by sending him to the fountain 
of Aganippe. 

To be more serious: — To have placed the vast majority 
of the human race out of the reach of privileges which 
Christianity professes to have made commensurate with the 
very ends of the earth, and to have adapted to every ra- 
tional inhabitant on its surface, would have been as base 
and treacherous, unjust and narrow, as the totality of the 
actual design is vast and glorious. 

Even had those few erninent men who ruled the empire 
of intellect in Greece and Rome, attained, by the influence 
of their philosophical doctrines, to perfection in practice, 
(which was far from being the case,) that would neither 
have advanced the general faith, nor improved the popular 
morals. In like manner, had Christianity limited its prin- 
ciples, and their consequent benefits, to evangelists and 
apostles, or to men of genius, how insignificant would have 
been her value in comparison of the etiects of that bound- 
less benevolence which commands the gospel to be preached 
to all, without any distinction of rank or ability. Through 



328 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

this blessed provision the poorest Christian, rich in faith, can 
equally with Boyle or Bacon relish the beauty of holiness 
in the pages of St. Paul, though he may not be rich enough 
in taste to discover its " picturesque beauties," as exhibited 
in the pages of some modern philosophic theologians. 

Ours is a religion, not of ingenuity, but of obedience. 
As we must not omit any thing which God has commanded, 
so we must not invent devices which he does not command. 
The talent of a certain Lacedemonian was not accepted as 
an excuse, when he added to his warlike instrument a string 
more than the state allowed. Instead of being commended 
for his invention, he was cashiered for his disobedienge: so 
far from being rewarded for improving his music, he was 
punished for infringing the law. 

Much were it to be wished, that these deep thinkers and 
brilliant writers, to whom we allude with every considera- 
tion for their talents, would make their immense mental 
riches subservient to their spiritual profit: and as Solon 
made his commercial voyages the occasion of amassing his 
vast intellectual treasures, so thaithey would consecrate their 
literary wealth, and devote their excursions into the regions 
of fancy to the acquisition of the one pearl of great price. 

Too often persons of fine genius, to whom Christianity 
begins to present itself, do not so much seek to penetrate 
its depths, where alone they are to be explored, in the un- 
erring word of God, as in their own pullulating imagina- 
tions. Their taste and their pursuits have familiarized them 
with the vast, and the grand, and the interesting: and they 
think to sanctify these in a way of their own. The feeling 
of the Infinite in nature, and the beautiful in art; the flights 
of poetry, of love, of glory, alternately elevate their im- 
agination, and they denominate the splendid combination, 
Christianity. But " the new cloth" will never assort with 
" the old garment." 

These elegant spirits seem to live in a certain lofty re- 
gion in their own minds, where they know the multitude 
cannot soar after them; they derive their grandeur from 
this elevation, which separates them with the creature of 
their imagination, from all ordinary attributes, and all asso- 
ciations of daily occurrence. In this middle region, too 
high for earth, and too low for heaven; too refined for sense, 
and too gross for spirit; they keep a magazine of airy 
speculations, and shining reveries, and puzzling metaphy- 
sics; the chief design of which is to drive to a distance, 
the profane vulgar; but the real effect, to separate them- 
selves and their system from all interco\irse with the wise 
and good, ~^ 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 32Jf 

God could never intend we should disparage his own 
gift, his highest natural gift, intellectual excellence. But 
knowing that those who possessed it, would be sufficiently 
forward, not only to value the talent, but to overvalue 
themselves for possessing it, he knew also that its posses- 
sors would require rather repression than excitement. 
Accordingly, we do not recollect any eulogy on mere in- 
tellectual ability either in the Old or the New Testament. 
In the Old, indeed, there is the severe censure of a prophet 
on its vain exercise ; ' ' thy wisdom and thy knowledge 
have perverted thee;" and in the New, the only mention 
of " high imaginations," is accompanied with an injunc- 
tion, " to cast them down," and this in order to the great 
and practical end of " bringing every thought into cap- 
tivity to the obedience of Christ." 

St. Paul was deeply sensible of the necessity of circum- 
scribing the passions, the powers, and the genius of men 
within due limits. He knew that they were not to be 
trusted to their own operation, without positive institutions, 
fixed laws, prescribed bounds. To subdue the pride and 
independence of the human heart, he knew to be no less re- 
quisite than to tame the sensual appetites. He was aware, 
that to fill the imagination with mere pictures of heroic 
virtue would not suffice for a creature like man, under the 
influence of that disorderly and inflammable faculty, with- 
out the infusion of holy habits, and the prescription of 
specific duties and defined rules. In fine, the discipline 
of Paul learns not so much to give play to his fancy, as to 
submit his will; and the first question which seems present- 
ed in his pages is not this, " How bright are thy concep- 
tions.^ " but " How readest thou? " 

The subject is too important, as a matter of caution, not 
to be placed in every possible light. Let us remember 
then that admiration is not conviction. There is some- 
thing in perfection of every kind, which lays hold on a 
heart glowing with strong feelings, and a mind imbued 
with true taste. On this ground, even Rousseau could be 
the occasional eulogist of Christianity. He could institute 
a comparison between the son of Sophroniscus and the 
son of Mary, with a pen, which seems plucked by a fallen 
spirit from a seraph's wing. His fine imagination was 
fired with the sublime of Christianity, as it would have been 
with a dialogue of Plato, a picture of Raff'aelle, or any 
exhibition of ideal beauty. 

Longinus, a still more accomplished critic in intellect- 
ual beauty than Rousseau, amongst the various illustra- 



330 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

tions of his doctrine in his beautiful work, quotes the 
almighty fiat at the creation, "Let there be light, and 
there was light," as a perfect instance of the sublime. He 
calls it " a just idea, and a noble expression of the power 
of God." Yet, though struck with this passage of the 
Jewish legislator, whom he coolly calls, " no ordinary 
person," he was satisfied with the beauty of the sentiment, 
without examining into that truth which is the spring and 
fountain of all beauty. Though he lived so late as the 
third century, yet he does not appear to have inquired into 
the truth of the Christian revelation; and thus but too la- 
mentably demonstrated, that the taste may give its most 
favorable verdict to a system which had yet made no im- 
pression on the heart. 

St. Paul found in the wants of man something that could 
not be supplied; in his sorrows, something that could not 
be consolated; in his lapse, something that could not be 
restored by elegant speculation or poetic rapture. He 
found that the wounds inflicted by sin could not be healed 
by the grace of composition; and that nothing but the 
grace of the Gospel could afford a remedy adequate to the 
demand. Let us, then, give our willing admiration to 
every species of true genius. Let us retain our taste for 
what is really excellent even in heathen models. But 
when called upon to identify the impressions of taste with 
the infusions of piety, let us boldly reply with the prophet, 
" What has Ephraim to do any more with idols?" 



CHAP. XI. 

*S/. PauVs Tenderness of Heart. 

Among the peculiarities of Christianity, it is one of the 
most striking, that they who, in Scripture language, love 
not the world, nor the things of the world, are yet the per- 
sons in it who are the farthest from misanthropes. They 
love the beings of whom the world is composed, better 
than he who courts and flatters it. They seek not its 
favor nor its honors, but they give a more substantial 
proof of affection, — they seek its improvement, its peace, 
its happiness, its salvation. 

If ever man, on this ground, had b pre-eminent claim to 



ESSAY ON Si', i AUL. 331 

the title of philanthropist, that man is the apostle Paul. 
The warmth of his affections, as exhibited in a more gen- 
eral view, in the narrative of St. Luke, and the tenderness 
of his feelings, as they appear more detailed throughout 
his own epistles, constitute a most interesting part of his 
very diversified character. 

This truth is obvious, not only on great and extraordi- 
nary occasions, but in the common circumstances of his 
life, and from the usual tenor of his letters. 

There are persons, not a few, who, though truly pious, 
defeat much of the good they intend to do, not always by 
a natural severity of temper, but by a repulsiveness of 
manner, by not cuhivating habits of courtesy, by a neglect 
of the smaller lenient acts of kindness. They will indeed 
confer the obligation, but they confer it in such a manner 
as grieves and humbles him who receives it. In fulfilling 
the letter of charity, they violate its spirit. We would not 
wilUngly suspect, that if they are more averse from be- 
stowing commendation, than from receiving it, a little 
envy, unsuspected by themselves, mixes with this reluc- 
tance. But be this as it may, tender spirits and feeling 
hearts, especially in the first stages of their religious course, 
require the fostering air of kindness and encouragement. 
They are not able to go alone, they need the soothing 
voice and the helping hand. They are ready to suspect 
that they are going wrong, if not occasionally encouraged 
to believe that they are going right. 

History presents us with numberless instances, m 
which the success or the failure of great enterprises has 
depended, not altogether on the ability, but partly on the 
temper of him who conducted it. The importance of con- 
ciliatory and engaging manners is nowhere more strik- 
ingly illustrated than by the opposite conduct and different 
success of two famous Athenian generals. Plutarch ob- 
serves, that though Pericles and Nicias both pursued the 
same end, the former, in the progress of his purpose, 
always won the people by his kind and insinuating address; 
while the latter, not employing the mild powers of persua- 
sion, exasperated instead of winning them over, and thus 
commonly failed in his enter^^rise. 

Paul's consummate knowledge of human nature, no less 
than his tenderness of heart, led him to encourage in his 
young converts early opening promise of goodness. He 
carefully cultivates every favorable symptom. He is '' gen- 
tle among them as a nurse cherisheth her children." He 
does not expect every thing at once ; he does not expect that 



332 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

a beginner in the ways of religion should start into instanta- 
neous perfection. He does not think all is lost if an error is 
committed; he does not abandon hope, if some less happy 
converts are slow in their progress. He protects their 
budding graces, he fences his young plants till they have 
had time to take root ; as they become strong he exposes 
them to the blast. If he rejoices that the hardy are more 
flourishing, he is glad that the less vigorous are neverthe- 
less alive. 

Characters which are great are not always amiable; the 
converse is equally true; in St. Paul there is an union of 
both qualities. He condescends to the inferior distresses, 
and consults the natural feelings of his friends, as much as 
if no weightier cares pressed on his mind. There is 
scarcely a more lovely part of his character, though it may 
be less striking to the common eyes, as being more tender 
than great, than the gentleness exhibited to his Corinthian 
converts; where he is anxious before he appears among 
them again that any breach might be healed, and every 
painful feeling done away, which his sharp reproof of an 
offending individual might have excited. He would not 
have the joyfulness of their meeting overshadowed by any 
remaining cloud. 

Though he expresses himself in the most feeling manner, 
lest he might have given them pain by his severe reproofs 
in a preceding letter, yet instantly the predominating in- 
tegrity of his mind leads him to take comfort in the reflec- 
tion, that this temporary sorrow had produced the most 
salutary effects on them who felt it. His rejoicing that the 
very sorrow he had excited was a religious sorrow, — his 
reflections on the beneficial results of this affliction, — on 
the repentance it had produced, the distinction between 
this and v/orldly sorrow, — his generous energy in enume- 
rating the several instances in which this good effect had 
appeared; "yea, what carefulness is wrought in you, yea, 
what clearing of yourselves, yea, what indignation, yea, 
what fear," and the animating conclusion, that "in all 
things they had proved themselves to be clear in the mat- 
ter;" all afford a proof of his being on the watch to lay 
hold of any possible occasion, on which to build instruction, 
as well as to graft consolation. 

No one ever possessed more nearly in perfection, the 
virtuous art of softening the severity of the censure he is 
obliged to inflict, no one ever more combined flexibility of 
manner with inflexibility of principle. He takes off the 
edge of reproof by conveying it negatively. To give a 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 333 

Single instance out of many, when he thought some of his 
converts had acted improperly, instead of saying I blame 
you, he adopts a mitigating phrase, "I praise you not." 
This address would prepare them to receive with more 
temper the censure to which it is an introduction. 

Of this Christian condescension each successive example 
furnishes us with a most engaging and beautiful model for 
our own conduct. With what deep regret does he allude 
to the necessity under which he had been of animadverting 
severely on the atrocious instance of misconduct above- 
mentioned! With what truth and justice does he make it 
appear that reproofs, which are so painful to the censor, are 
a more certain evidence of friendship, than commendations, 
which it would have given to him as much joy to have be- 
stowed, as to them to have received! An important admo- 
nition to all, to those especially whose more immediate con- 
cern it is to watch over the conduct of others, that though 
this most trying duty should never be neglected by them, 
yet that the integrity which obliges them to point out faults, 
should be exercised in a manner so feehng as to let the 
offender see, that they have no pleasure in adopting harsh 
measures; of this truth they give the surest proof by the 
joy with which, like the apostle, they welcome the returning 
penitent back to virtue. 

Observe the delicacy of his distinctions, — he wrote to 
them out of much affliction and anguish of heart; not that he 
wished to grieve him by a display of his own sorrow, but 
that he might judge by it of the abundant love he had for them. 
Nor does he, as is the vulgar practice, blame a whole com- 
munity for the faults of individuals: / am grieved hid in part, 
that I may not overcharge you all. Mark his justice in se- 
parating the offending party from the mass. Is not this a 
hint against an indiscriminate mode of attack? Do we not 
occasionally hear one audience addressed as if it were com- 
posed entirely of saints, and another, as if all were grossly 
impenitent sinners.'' 

Having received sufficient proofs of the obedience of the 
community, in inflicting the punishment, and of the peni- 
tence of the ofl^ender in submitting to it, he was now not 
only anxious for his restoration, but for his comfort. He 
sets a most amiable example of the manner in which the 
contrite spirit should be cheered, and the broken lieart 
bound up. No one was evermore studious than St. Paul, to 
awaken contrition; none more eager to heal its pangs. 

Want of consideration is an error into which even good 
men sometimes fall. Thev do not always enter iniirnatelv 



334 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

into the character and circumstances of the persons they 
address. St. Paul writes to his friends hke one that felt, 
because he partook the same fallen humanity with them: 
like one who was familiar with the infirmities of our com- 
mon nature, who could allow for doubt and distrust, for 
misapprehension and error; who expected inconsistency, 
and was not deterred by perverseness; who herewith failure 
where it was not wilful, and who could reprove obduracy, 
without being disappointed at meeting with it. In St. Paul, 
the heart of flesh was indeed substituted for the heart of 
stone. 

Our spiritual strength is invigorated by the retrospection 
of our former errors. St. Paul's tenderness for his converts 
was doubtless increased by the remembrance of his own 
errors; a remembrance which left a compassionate feeling 
on his impressible heart. It never, however, led him to be 
guilty of that mischievous compassion of preferring the ease 
of his friends to their safety. He never soothed where it 
was his duty to reprove. He knew that integrity was the 
true tenderness; that a harsh truth, which might tend to 
save the soul, had more humanity than a palliative, which 
might endanger it. 

From this intimate knowledge of the infirmities even of 
good men, he had such a conviction of the possibility of 
relaxing in religious strictness, that he scrupled not to 
express his fears to his Corinthian friends, that when he 
came among them, " he should not find them such as he 
would;" in order to soften, he divides the blame, by fearing, 
that " he should be found of them such as they would not." 
Knowing, too, that the temper was more under control, and 
irritation less easily excited, by epistolary than by verbal 
communication; when he expresses his fears that at their 
meeting he might find among them "debates, envyings, 
wrath, swellings," he tenderly apologizes for expressing 
his apprehensions, because lest in conversation he might use 
sharpiiess. In his most severe animadversions, he does not 
speak of any with hopeless harshness. He seldom treats 
the bad as irreclaimable, but generally contrives to leave 
them some remains of credit. He seems to feel that by 
stripping erring men of every vestige of character, he should 
strip them also of every glimmering of hope, of every incite- 
ment to reformation. It is indeed almost cutting off any 
chance of a return to virtue, when we do not leave the of- 
fender some remnant of reputation to which he may still be . 
led to act up. May not this preservation from despair lead 
to the operation of a higher principle.'' Thougli Timothy is 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 335 

exhorted to have no company with him who obeys not the 
word of Paul's epistle, the prohibition is only in order "that 
he may be ashamed;" "yet is he not to be accounted as 
an enemy, but exhorted as a brother," 

As there seems to have been no church which had fallen 
into such important errors as that of Corinth, and conse- 
quently none where more pointed reproof was necessary, so 
in no epistle is there more preparatory soothing, more con- 
ciliatory preliminaries to the counsels or the censures he is 
about to communicate. He tells them that " in every thino- 
they are enriched," — "that they come behind in no gift," 
before he reprehends them for their contentious spirit, for 
their divisions, for their strifes. Thus, though the reproof 
would be keenly felt, it would not be met with a spirit pre- 
viously exasperated — a spirit which those reprovers infal- 
libly excite, who by indiscriminate upbraiding stir up the 
irascible passions at the outset, shut up every avenue to 
the kind affections, and thus deprive the offender of that 
patient calmness with which he might otherwise have pro- 
fited by the reproof. 

This intimate feeling of his own imperfection is every 
where visible. It makes him more than once press on his 
friends,the Christian duty of bearing one another's burdens, 
intimating how necessary this common principle of mutual 
kindness v/as, as they themselves had so much to call forth 
the forbearance of others. In his usual strain of referring 
to first motives, he does not forget to remind them, that it 
was fulfilling the law of Christ. 

As the ardent zeal of St. Paul led him into no enthusiasm, 
so the warmth of his affections never blinded his judgment. 
Religion did not dry up, as it is sometimes accused of doing, 
the spring of his natural feeling; his sensibility was exqui- 
site; but the heart which felt all, was quickened by an ac- 
tivity which did all, and regulated by a faith which con- 
quered all. 

His sorrows and his joys, both of which were intense, 
never seem to have arisen from any thing which related 
merely to himself. His own happiness or distress were little 
influenced by personal considerations; the varying condi- 
tion, the alternate improvement or declension of his con- 
verts alone, could sensibly raise or depress his feelings. 
With what anguish of spirit does he mourn over some, " of 
whom I have told you often, and now tell you weeping, that 
they are the enemies of the cross of Christ." Mark again 
hisself-renoimcing joy — " We are glad when we are weak 
and ye are strong." Again, " let me rejoice in the day of 



336 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL, 

Christ, that I have not run in vain, neither labored in 
vain." 

When he expressed such a feeling sense of distress, upon 
the interesting occasion of taking his departure for Jerusa- 
lem, " the Holy Ghost witnessing in every city that bonds 
and imprisonment awaited him,"^ still he felt no concern 
for his own safety. No: he anticipated without terror his 
probable reception there. With a noble disregard of all 
personal considerations, he exclaims, "but none of these 
things move me, neither count I my life dear, so that I may 
finish my course with joy, and the ministry which I have 
received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the Gospel of the 
grace of God," | 

If none of these things moved him, then whence arose 
the sorrow he so keenly felt.'' It arose from no selfish 
cause; it was from a consideration far superior to that ten- 
der feeling, that they should meet no more, though that 
too he would deeply regret; it was occasioned by reflection 
on the future condition of the church, and a prophetic view 
of that corruption of doctrine to which he foresaw his be- 
loved converts would be soon exposed. 

There is something singularly beautiful in the dignity, 
simplicity, and godly sincerity of this apostolic charge, to 
which we allude. With humble confidence, he refers his 
audience to their own knowledge of his whole conduct. 
He assures them, that neither any fears of the insidious 
Jews, always on the watch to circumvent him, nor the hos- 
tility of the idolatrous Gentiles, always ready to oppose 
him, had ever driven him to withhold any important truth, 
any salutary admonition. He slightly touches on the two 
fundamental truths on which all his instructions had been 
built, /ai//i and repentance: then he reminds them, that not 
satisfied with the public exercise of his function, he had 
practised that subsidiary and valuable method of instruction 
— private visits at the houses of individuals — a method 
equally practicable in all ages of the church; equally de- 
sirable to all who wish to gain a real acquaintance, in the 
intervals of public, service with the necessities, the infirm- 
ities, and the sins of their respective hearers. This would 
enable him to perform his stated ministrations with ten-fold 
effect. It would initiate him into the endless variety of 
characters of which every audience is composed; it would 
enable the teacher to be more personal in his exhortations, 

* Acts XX. 

t VVe make no apology for the repeated references to this portion of this 
nicst interesting cliapter. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 337 

more pointed in his reproofs, more specific in his instruc- 
tion, than he could be when he addressed them in the great 
assembly. It would also qualify him for more extensive 
usefulness in those public addresses by the materials which 
he was thus collecting. It would be among the means 
also to win their affection and increase their attachment, 
when they saw that his zeal for their spiritual advancement 
was large and cordial; that he did not content himself with 
the stipulated scantling of bare weight duty; that he did 
not deal out his instruction with a legal scrupulosity, but 
was willing to spend, and desirous to be spent, for them. 

With what a holy satisfaction did the conscience of the 
apostle further testify that no desire of pleasing, no fear of 
offending, had prevented him from delivering wholesome 
truths, because they might be unpalatable! What an 
awful intimation to every ambassador of Christ, that this 
indefatigable apostle, at the moment of final separation, 
could call on all present to testify that whatever might have 
been the negligence of the hearer, the preacher " was pure 
from the blood of all men;" that he had never been guilty 
of that false tenderness, of not declaring to them the whole 
counsel of God! He appeals to his disinterestedness, that, 
so far from being influenced by any lucrative motive, he 
had labored with his own hands, not only to support him- 
self, but to assist the poor. How touching, no doubt to 
his hearers, was the intimation, that the same hands which 
had been raised for them in prayer, had been employed for 
their support! 

This modest allusion to his own liberality, and to the 
personal labor which had enabled him to exercise it, was a 
proper parting lesson. It reminded his auditors, that no 
part of his religion was merely theoretical. He had, doubt- 
less, frequently insisted on the principle; he here shows 
them its practical effect; in this, as in other instances, 
pressing home every truth he taught by every virtue he 
exercised. 

He concludes with a powerful application to his associ- 
ates in the ministry, to whom he was about to commit the 
care of the people. The tender grief, the grateful sympa- 
thy, the prayers, the tears and embraces of the afilicted 
audience, "sorrowing most because they should see his 
face no more," bore a truer testimony to the fidelity of the 
preacher, than the most elaborate eulogy on his style or 
manner; and doubtless afforded a higher test of excelience, 
than any temporary effect, produced by an artificial ha- 
rangue, which, while it fills the hearer with admiration of 

15 



338 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

the preacher, leaves his own conscience untouched, his 
own heart unhumble. 

He then bequeathes, as a kind of dying legacy, the peo- 
ple to their ministers; affectionately exhorting the latter, 
first; to "take heed to themselves," as the only sure earn- 
est of their taking heed to their flock, strengthening his- 
exhortation "to feed the church of God," by a motive at 
once the most powerful and the most endearing, because 
he hath purchased it with his own blood. 

In that great and terrible day of the Lord when the glo- 
rious Head of the Church shall summon the assembled 
universe to judgment, among the myriads who shall trem- 
blingly await their own definitive sentence, how will the 
exploring eye of men and angels be turned on the more 
prominent and public characters, who, from rank, profes- 
sion, talent, or influence, were invested with superior re- 
sponsibility! What individual among these distinguished 
classes will be able to endure the additional load of other 
men's sins, brought forward to swell his personal account? 
Though it is not easy to image to the mind a more touch- 
ing event than this parting scene of Christian friends on 
the shores of Ephesus, yet there is one to come of far higher 
interest, that of their re-union; — that august scene, when 
the pastor and his flock shall appear together, at the call 
of the Chief Shepherd, — when the servants of the Universal 
Master, — " they who have sought that which was lost, and 
brought again that which was driven away, and bound up 
that which was broken, and strengthened that which was 
sick,"* shall deliver up to Him who laid down his life for 
the sheep, that flock " which he will require at their hands." 
Yes! among the candidates for a blessed immortality, will 
stand awfully pre-eminent the band of Christian ministers, 
each surrounded by "the flock over which the Holy Ghost 
had made him overseer," every one of whom had sacra- 
mentally declared, at his introduction into the lold, that he 
undertook the sacred office in obedience to that solemn 
call.t What a sound, "Well done good and faithful ser- 
vant!" to him who shall have acquitted himself of his tre- 
mendous responsibility! What a spectacle.'' — multitudes 
entering into the joy of their Lord, gratefully ascribing their 
opening and inconceivable felicity to the zeal, the fidelity, 
the prayers of their pastor. For them, to resume the beau- 
tiful metaphors of the Holy Book, — for them, the green pas- 
tures, into which they had conducted their flock, shall flour- 
ish in everlasting verdure; for them, the waters of comfort, 

* Ezek. xxxiv. 16. t See the Ordination Service 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 339 

beside which they had led them, shall flow from a source which 
eternity cannot exhaust, from those rivers of pleasure which 
are at God's right hand for evermore. 

If this spectacle has a contrast, we avert our eyes from 
the contemplation. If even the picture is too terrible to be 
sketched, who could stand the possibility of its being real- 
ized .? 

This whole valedictory address to the elders of Ephesus 
combines every beauty of composition: it exhibits an ener- 
gy, a devotion, a resignation, an integrity, a tenderness, 
which cannot be sufficiently admired. And the more inti- 
mately to touch their hearts by mixing the remembrance 
of the friend with the injunctions he had delivered, he not 
only refers them to the doctrines which he had taught, but 
the tears which he had shed. 

There is nothing like stoical indifference. Nothing like 
a contempt of the sensibilities of nature, in his whole con- 
duct; and it furnishes a proof how happily magnanimity 
and tenderness blend together, that as there is probably no 
character in history which exhibits a more undaunted hero- 
ism than that of St. Paul, so there is perhaps not one whose 
tears are so frequently recorded. "What mean ye to weep 
and break my heart.'*" is an interrogatory as intelligible to 
us in the character of Paul, as the heroic declaration, "I 
am ready not to be bound only, but also to die for the name 
of the Lord Jesus." What ground, then, is there for that 
charge so frequently brought against persons of eminent 
piety, that they are destitute of natural feeling. The Old 
Testament saints were striking examples of domestic ten- 
derness. 

When Paul exhorts his converts "to stand fast in the 
Lord," he declares his own participation in the blessings 
of this steadfastness, in terms the most endearing — " dearly 
beloved and longed for, my crown and joy, so stand fast in 
the Lord, my dearly beloved;" — as if he would add to the 
motives of their perseverance, the transport it would afford 
to himself His very existence seems to depend on their 
steadfastness in piety — "for now we live if ye stand fast in 
the Lord." Again, as a proof how dear his converts were 
to him, he was desirous of imparting to them not only the 
Gospel of God, but also his own soul. 

The spirit of Christianity is nowhere more apparent than 
in the affectionate strain in which he adjures his Roman 
friends only to consent to save their own souls. One would 
suppose it was not the immortal happiness of others, but 
his own, which so earnestly engaged him How fervently 



340 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

tender is his mode of obtesting them! "I beseech you, 
brethren, by the mercies of God" — " I Paul by myself be- 
seech you by the meekness and gentleness of Christ."* As 
the representative of his Master, he implores of man the re- 
conciliation for which it would be natural to expect that man 
himself, whose own concern it is, should be the solicitor. 

St. Paul's zeal for the spiritual welfare of whole com- 
munities, did not swallow up his ardent attachment to in- 
dividuals; nor did his regard to their higher interests lead 
him to overlook their personal sufferings. He descends 
to give particular advice to one friend | respecting the 
management of his health. In his grief for the sickness 
of another, J and his joy at his recovery, he does not pre- 
tend to a feeling purely disinterested, but gratefully ac- 
knowledges that his joy was partly for his own sake, " lest 
he should have sorrow upon sorrow." These soft touches 
of sympathy for individuals particularly dear to him, in a 
man so like-minded with Christ, in the instances of Laza- 
rus and John, are a sufficient refutation of the whimsical 
assertion of a lively genius; that particular friendships are 
hostile to the spirit of Christianity. § 

The capacious heart of this blessed apostle was so large 
as to receive into it all who loved his Lord. The saluta- 
tions with which most of his epistles close, and the affec- 
tionate remembrances which they convey, include perhaps 
the names of a greater number of friends, than any dozen 
of Greek or Roman heroes, in the plentitude of success 
and power, ever attracted; if we may judge in the one 
case by the same rule as in the other, the narrative of 
history, or the writings of biographical memoirs. 

But his benevolence was not confined to the narrow 
bounds of friends or country. — He ivas a man, and nothing 

* Romans, xii. 1. f Timothy. | Epaphroditus. 

§ It is however a debt of justice due to a departed friend to observe, that 
no suspicion could be more unfounded than that Mr. Soame Jenyns was not 
sincere in his profession of Christianity. The author lived much in his very 
pleasant society, and is persuaded that he died a sincere Christian. He had 
a peculiar turn of humor; he delighted in novelty and paradox, and perhaps 
brought too much of both into his religion. Ingenious men will sometimes 
be ingenious in the wrong place. If he lays too much stress on some things, 
and underrates others; if he mistakes or overlooks even fundamental points, 
so tliat some of his opinions must appear defective to the experienced Chris- 
tian ; yet the general turn of his work on the Internal Evidence of Chris- 
tianity may render it useful to others, by inviting them by the very novelty 
of his manner to consult a species of evidence to which they have not been 
accustomed. A skeptical friend of the writer of these pages, wiio had stood 
out against the arguments of some of the ablest divines, was led by this little 
work to examine more deeply into internal evidence; it sent him to read his 
Bible in a new spirit. He followed up his inquiries, consulted authors whose 
views were more matured, and died a sound believer. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 341 

that involved the best interests of man was indifferent to 
him. A most beautiftil comparison has been drawn by as 
fine a genius as has adorned this or any age, between the 
learned and not illaudable curiosity which has led so many 
ingenious travellers to visit distant and dangerous climes, 
in order "to contemplate mutilated statues and defaced 
coins; to collate manuscripts, and take the height of pyra- 
mids," with the zeal which carried the late martyr of hu- 
manity on a more noble pilgrimage, " to search out infect- 
ed hospitals, to explore the depth of dungeons, and to 
take the gauge of human misery " in order to relieve it. 

Without the unworthy desire to rob this eminent philan- 
thropist of his well-earned palm, may we not be allowed 
to wish, that the exquisite eulogist of Howard had also 
instituted a comparison which would have opened so vast 
a field to his eloquent pen, between the adventurous expe- 
ditions of the conqueror, the circumnavigator, the discov- 
erer, the naturalist, with those of Paul, the martyr of the 
Gospel? Paul, who, renouncing ease and security, sacri- 
ficing fame and glory, encountering "weariness and 
painfulness, watching, hunger and thirst, cold and naked- 
ness; was beaten with rods, frequent in prisons, in deaths 
oft, was once stoned, thrice suffered shipwreck, was a day 
and night in the deep," * went from shore to shore, and from 
city to city, knowing that bonds and imprisonment awaited 
him; and for what purpose? He, too, was a discoverer, 
and in one sense a naturalist. He explored not indeed the 
treasures of the mineral, nor the varieties of the vegeta- 
ble world. His business was with man; his object the 
discovery of man's moral wants; his study, to apply a 
proportionate remedy; his work, to break up the barren 
ground of the human soil ; his aim, to promote the culture 
of the undisciplined heart; his end, the salvation of those 
for whom Christ died. He did not bring away one poor 
native to graft the vices of a polished country on the 
savage ignorance of his own; but he carried to the natives 
themselves the news, and the means of eternal life. 

He was also a conqueror, but he visited new regions, 
not to depopulate, but to enlighten them. He sought tri- 
umphs, but they were over sin and ignorance. He 
achieved conquests; but it was over the prince of dark- 
ness. He gained trophies, but they were not military 
banners, but rescued souls. He erected monuments, but 
they were to the glory of God. He did not carve his own 
* 2 Corinthians, cb. xi. 



342 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL 

name on the rocky shore, but he engraved that of his Lord 
on the hearts of the people. While conflicting with want, 
and struggling with misery, he planted churches; while 
sinking under reproach and obloquy, he erected the stan- 
dard of the cross among barbarians, and (far more hope- 
less enterprise!) among philosophers; and having escaped 
with life from the most uncivilized nations, was reserved 
<T)r martyrdom in the imperial queen of cities! 



CHAP. XII. 

St. PauVs Heavenly Mindedness. 

True religion consists in the subjugation of the body to 
the soul, and of the soul to God. The apostle every where 
shows, that by our apostasy this order is destroyed, or rather 
inverted. At the same time he teaches, that though brought 
into this degraded state by our own perverseness, we are 
not hopelessly abandoned to it. He not only shows the 
possibility, but the mode of our restoration, and describes 
the happy condition of the restored, even in this world, 
by declaring, that to be spiritually- minded is life and peace. 

He knew that our faculties are neither good nor evil in 
themselves, but powerful instruments for the promotion of 
both; active capacities for either, just as the bent of our 
character is determined by the predominance of religion 
or of sin, of the sensual or the spiritual mind. St. Paul 
eminently exhibited, both in his example and in his writ- 
ings, the spiritual mind. He was not only equal in cor- 
rectness of sentiment and purity of practice with those 
who are drily orthodox, and superior to those who are 
coldly practical; but " he perfects holiness in the fear of 
God." He abounds in the heavenly mindedness which 
is the uniting link between doctrinal and practical piety, 
which, by the unction it infuses into both, proves that both 
are the result of divine grace ; and which consists in an 
entire consecration of the affections, a voluntary surrender 
of the whole man to God. 

This disposition the apostle makes the preliminary to 
all performance, as well as the condition of all acceptance. 
This it is which constitutes the charm of his writings. 
There is a spirit of sanctity which pervades them, and 
which, whilst it affords the best evidence of the love of 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 3413 

God shed abroad in his own heart, infuses it also into the 
heart of his readers. While he is musing, the fire burns, 
and communicates its pure flame to every breast suscep- 
tible of genuine Christian feeling. Under its influence his 
arguments become persuasions, his exhortations entreaties. 
A sentiment so tender, and earnestness so imploring, 
breathes throughout them, that it might seem that all re- 
gard for himself, all care for his own interests, is swal- 
lowed up in his ardent and affectionate concern for the 
spiritual interests of others. 

The exuberance of his love and gratitude, the fruits of 
his abundant faith, break out almost in spite of himself 
His zeal reproves our timidity, his energy our indifference. 
" He dwells," as an eloquent writer has remarked, " with 
almost untimely descant," on the name of Him who had 
called him out of darkness into his marvellous light. 
That name which we are so reluctant to pronounce, not 
through reverence to its possessor, but fear of each other, 
ever sounds with holy boldness from the lips of Paul. His 
bursts of sacred joy, his triumphant appeals to the truth 
of the promises, his unbounded confidence in the hope 
set before him, carry an air not only of patience, but of 
victory, not only of faith, but of fruition. 

Whoever desires more particularly to compare this 
spirit of divine power manifested by the apostle, with the 
opposite spirit of the world, let him carefully peruse the 
eighth chapter of his Epistle to the Romans. After de- 
scribing the strong and painful conflict with the malignant 
power of sin in the seventh chapter, with what a holy 
exultation does he, in the opening of the eighth, hurry in, 
as it were, the assurance that " there is now no condem- 
nation to them that are in Christ Jesus." It somewhat 
resembles that instant, 1 had almost said, that impatient, 
mercy of God in the third of Genesis, which seems eager 
to make the promise follow close upon the fall, the forgive- 
ness upon the sin; to cut off" the distressing space between 
terror and joy, to leave no interval for despair. God, who 
is so patient when he is to punish, is not so patient when 
he is to save. He delays to strike, but he hastes to par- 
don. "After the first offence," says bishop Jeremy 
Taylor, " God could not stay from redeeming;" nor could 
Paul stay from proclaiming that we are redeemed. The 
apostle, like his Creator, loses not a moment to comfort 
the soul which he has been afflicting. 

In this divine eff'usion we at once discern the difference 
between natural weakness and superadded strength; be- 



344 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

tvveen the infirmities which are fortified by the assistance 
of the spirit, and the sensual mind, which not only is not, 
but cannot be subject to the law of God; between him who 
not having " the spirit of Christ, is none of his," and him 
in whom " Christ, the spirit of life, dwells;" between him, 
who, if he yield to the pleasures of sense, shall die, and 
him who, through the spirit mortifying the deeds of the 
body shall live. 

It is worth observing, that he does not make the line ot 
demarcation between the two classes of characters, to 
consist merely in the actual crimes and grosser vices of 
the one class, and the better actions of the other. It is 
to the sensual and spiritual mind, the fountain of good and 
evil deeds, to which he refers as the decisive test. This 
radical distinction he further conceives to be a more ob- 
vious line of separation than even any difference of reli- 
gious opinions, any distinction arising from the mere 
adoption of peculiar dogmas. 

That the reviving assurance may appear to belong ex- 
clusively to real Christians, he marks the change of char- 
acter by the definite tense now, implying their recent vic- 
tory over their old corruptions, which he had been deplor- 
ing. This precaution would prevent those who remained 
in their former state from taking to themselves the comfort 
of a promise in which they have no part. He guards it 
still more explicitly, by declaring, that the true evidence 
of this renovation of heart, was their walking after the 
spirit; a term which describes habitual progress in the 
new way, to which we are conducted by the new nature, 
and which, if it do not always preserve us from deviating 
from it, recalls us back to it. 

The power Paul felt; and on this principle he wrote; 
and he never wrote on any principle on which he did not 
act. After he had carried piety to the most heroic eleva- 
tion; after he had pressed the most fervent exertions or 
others, and gained the most splendid conquests over him- 
self, still he considered himself only in the road to salva- 
tion; still he never thought of slackening his course; he 
thought not of resting; he had not reached his end. He 
was not intimidated from pursuing it by new difficulties; 
his resolution rose with his trials; all he feared for himself, 
all against which he cautioned others, was declension; his 
grand solicitude for them and for himself was, that they 
might not lose the ground they had gained. He well 
knev/, that even the present position could not be long 
maintained without the pursuit of farther conquests. He 
walked after the spirit. 



ESSAY O^ ST. PAUL. 545 

The terrible forms of distress which he summons to view 
ill this, as well as in other parts of his epistles, always re- 
mind him of the principle which makes them supportable. 
He enumerates human miseries in all their variety of shapes, 
— tribulation, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, peril, 
sword. But to what end does he muster this confederate 
band of woes? He calls on them not to avert the suffer- 
ings they inflict; no, he challenges them to separate the 
Christian sufferer from the love of Christ. He presents 
himself to us as an instance of the supreme triumph of this 
love over all earthly calamity. The man whose distresses 
abounded, who was jwessed above measure, comes out of the 
conflict, not only a conqueror, — that to one of his ardent 
spirit seemed too poor a triumph, he is more than a conquer- 
or. But hov/ is this victory achieved ? Through him who 
loved us. That lowliness which made him say just before, 
"that which I do I allow not, but what I hate that I do," 
must have been lifted by a mighty faith when he exclaimed, 
"I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels, 
nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things 
to come, nor life, nor death, nor any other creature, shall 
be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in 
Christ Jesus our Lord." 

In speaking, in this chapter, of the glories of the eternal 
world, his rapture does not escape him as the sally of the 
imagination, as a thought awakened by a sudden glance of 
the object; he does not express himself at random from the 
impulse of the moment; his is not the conjectural language 
of ignorant desire, of uncertain hope; it is an assuniption 
of the sober tone of calculation. " I reckon," says he, like 
a man skilled in this spiritual arithmetic, — "I reckon," 
after a due estimate of their comparative value, "that the 
sufferings of the present time are not worthy to be compared 
with the glory which shall be revealed." 

No man was ever so well qualified to make this estimate. 
Of the sufferings of the present world he had shared more 
largely than any man. Of the glory that shall be revealed, 
he had a glimpse granted to no other man. He had been 
caught up into paradise. He " had heard the words of 
God, and seen the visions of the Almighty," and the result 
of his privileged experience, was, that he " desired to de- 
part, and to be with Christ;" that he desired to escape from 
this valley of tears; that he was impatient to recover the 
celestial vision, eager to perpetuate the momentary fore- 
taste of the glories of immortality. 

We perceive, then, how this hope of future felicity sus- 



346 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

tained him under conflicts, of which we, in an established 
state of Christianity, and suffering only under the common 
trials of mortality, can have no adequate conception. His 
courageous faith was kept alive and fortified by fervently 
practising the duty he so unweariedly urges upon others; 
continuing instant in prayer. 

To encourage this practice in his readers, and at the same 
time to point out the source of his own heavenly hope, and 
continual intercourse with the Divine presence, he adds, 
"the Spirit helpeth our infirmities, for we know not what 
we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit itself maketh 
intercession for us. " Nor does his high trust and confidence 
in God, thus gendered, easily find its limit. On the con- 
trary, he adds, " we know that all things work together for 
good to them that love God." 

This trust was an assurance of the largest import, and 
it involved indefinite consequences. Having cordially 
confided in him for salvation through the blood of Christ, 
he found, as is always the case, the greater involving the 
less: he found that he had little difficulty in trusting Him 
with his inferior concerns. To Him to whom he had com- 
mitted his eternal happiness, to Him he could not scruple 
to confide his fortune, his health, his reputation, his life. 

We have not, it is true, these manifestations, of which 
the apostle was favored with a temporary enjoyment. But 
we have his testimony, added to the testimony, the eviden- 
ces, the proofs, the promises, the demonstrations of the 
whole New Testament. Why, then, are we not supported., 
encouraged, animated by them.'' It is because we do not 
examine these evidences, because we do not consult these 
testimonies, because we neglect these proofs: therefore it 
is, that we are not nurtured by these promises. We enter- 
tain them as speculations, rather than as convictions, we 
receive them as notions, rather than as facts. 

If ever a cordial desire of these devout assurances is 
conferred, it is in fervent prayer. What an encourage- 
ment to this holy exercise, is the hope of being raised by 
it, to the heart-felt belief that such felicity is real, and that 
it is reserved for the final portion of the humble Christian.'' 
Too humble, perhaps, to give full credit that such great 
things can be in store for him. For a moment he is stag- 
gered, till faith, the parent of that humility which trembles 
while it believes, enables him to apply to himself the pro- 
mises of Him to whom nothing is impossible, the merits of 
Him for whom nothing is too gjreat, the death of Him who 
died that we might live for ever. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 347 

In whatever part of his writings the apostle speaks of the 
efficacy of the death of Christ, and of the " constraining" 
power of his love, there is a vehemence in his desire, a 
vivacity in his sentiments, an energy in his language, an 
intensity in his feelings, which strongly indicate a mind 
penetrated with the depth of his own views. He paints the 
love of his Lord as a grace, of which, though his soul was 
deeply sensible as to its nature, yet as to the degree, it is 
" exceeding abundantly above" not only " all that he could 
ask," but " all that he could think." His boldest concep- 
tions sink under the impression which no language could 
convey. 

Yet these sublime portions of his writings, which bear 
the more special stamp and impress of the Gospel, which 
afford the nearest view of realities as yet unapproachable, 
are set aside by many, as things in which they have no 
personal concern. They have, indeed, a sort of blind rev- 
erence for them, as for something which they conceive to 
be at once sacred and unintelligible, such a kind of respect 
as a man would naturally entertain at the sight of a copy 
of the Scriptures in a language which he did not understand. 

Eloquent as he was, we often find him laboring under 
his intense conception of ideas too vast for utterance. In 
describing the extent of the love of God, its height and 
depth, its length and breadth, his soul seems to expand 
with the dimensions he is unfolding. His expressions seem 
to acquire all that force with which he intimates that the 
soul itself, so acted upon, is invested. To he strengthened 
tvitk might, would have been reckoned tautology in an or- 
dinary writer on an ordinary subject; and to be strengthen- 
ed with all might, would seem an attribute impossible to 
mortality. But holy Paul had himself felt the excellency 
of that power; he knew that it is derived, and that the foun- 
tain of duration is the glorious jioxuer of God. 

In delineating the mighty operations of Divine love on 
the human mind, the seeming hyperboles are soberly true. 
Where the theme is illimitable, language will burst its 
bounds. He preaches riches which are unsearchable — ex- 
horts to know the love which swrpasscs knowledge — promises 
peace which passes understanding — we must look at things 
which are not seen — against hope we must believe in hope^- 
while sorrowfid we must always be rejoicing — as having noth- 
ing must reckon that we jwssess all things— dying, and behold 
we live — though unknown we are well known — In short, he 
reconciles contradictions, unites opposites. Antipathies 
by nature become affinities by grace. The love of God in 



348 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

Christ is the point where he makes contraries centre, and 
impossibilities meet. 

His spirit seems most intimately to identify itself with the 
church of Ephesus. What an improbable union! The 
late idolatrous worshippers of Diana, and the late persecu- 
tors of the saints of Jesus, have now but one heart and one 
soul! These recent enemies to Christ, and to each other, 
now meet in one common point of attraction. With what 
holy triumph does he dilate on their common faith! that 
love of God in Christ Jesus which is their common centre 
and bond of union! 

Still, as we have such frequent occasion to observe, he 
does not sacrifice practical duty to the indulgence of his 
rapture. Still he does not allow even these Ephesians to 
rest satisfied with the grace they have received. It is not 
enough that they have been favored with a vocation, they 
must " walk worthy of it." " The perfecting of the saints" 
must be carried on; " they must reach the measure of the 
stature of the fulness of Christ." No such perfection had 
been attained as would allow them to rest in their present 
position. Even in this highly favored church, progress is 
enjoined, pressed, reiterated. — No elevation of devout feel- 
ing sets him above attention to moral goodness. 

Nothing can be more beautiful than the abrupt apostro- 
phies of praise and gratitude into which, in the midst of 
sorrow, of exhortation, of reproof, he unexpectedly breaks 
out. The love of his Redeemer so fills his soul, that it re- 
quires an effort to restrain its outward expression. Even 
when engaged in the transaction of business, and directing 
the concerns of others, which, by an ordinary mind, would 
have been pleaded as a valid reason for suspending spiritual 
ideas, and dismissing spiritual feelings, they yet mix them- 
selves, as it were involuntarily, with his secular cares; there 
is not only a satisfaction but a joyfulness in these escapes 
of affection which seem to spring from his soul, in propor- 
tion to the depression of his circumstances, to the danger 
which surrounded, to the deaths which threatened him. 

When Paul and Silas were imprisoned at Philippi, it is 
recorded that they prayed at midnight. This would natu- 
rally be expected from such men, under such circumstan- 
ces; but it is added, "they sang praises unto God." Thus 
they not only justified, but glorified Him, under this suffer- 
ing, as well as degradation. For it must not be forgotten, 
that this imprisonment was not merely a measure for secur- 
ing their persons, — they were stripped bare — many stripes 
were laid upon them, and the iron entered into their soul. 
Vet they sang praises unto God! 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 349 

What a triumph is here of the element of spirit over the 
force and violence of outward circumstances! 

* Th' oppressor holds 
His body bound, but knows not what a range 
His spirit takes, unconscious of a chain; 
And that to bind him is a vain attempt, 
Whom God delights in, and in whom he dwells.' 

In the epistle to the Ephesians, to which we have just 
referred, we are presented with a fresh instance how much 
his devotion rose under the same circumstances of distress. 
It was written from a prison, and is almost one entire effu- 
sion of love and praise. It is an overflowing expression 
of affectionate gratitude, that has no parallel. It seems to 
be enriched with an additional infusion of the spirit of God, 
and has perhaps more of the heroism of Christian feeling 
than, except in the discourses of our Lord, is to be found in 
the whole sacred treasury. It seems to come fresh from 
the celestial world. He speaks not as from a prison, but 
as from a region of light, and life, and glory. His thoughts 
are in heaven, his soul is with his Saviour, his heart is with 
his treasure: no wonder, then, that his language has a tinc- 
ture of the idiom of immortality. 

As Archimedes, when Syracuse was taken by the besieg- 
ers, was so intent on a mathematical demonstration, that he 
knew not when the city was lost: so the apostle, absorbed 
in a concern as much superior to that of the philosopher as 
Scripture truth is to scientific, lost sight of the cruelties of 
Nero, forgot his former sufferings, felt not his present cap- 
tivity, thought not of his impending fate — present, past, and 
future, as they related to himself", were absorbed in his zeal 
for the salvation of the church, for the glory of its founder I 
Mark the divine supports vouchsafed to this imprisoned 
saint! Note his state of grace! Observe the perfection of 
his faith! How the motion of his spirit was accelerated as 
it drew nearer to its centre! He whose deep humility had 
suggested to him the possibility, that, at^ter converting 
others, he might himself be rejected: he who had desired 
not to be unclothed, but to be clothed upon — now declares 
that he is 7'eady to be offered up, now desires to depart; 
not in the gentle decay of exhausted nature, not in the 
weaning langour of a sick bed, not in the calm of a peace- 
ful dissolution, suffering only the pains inseparable from an 
ordinary death; but he is prepared to meet the hand of 
violence: he is ready to pour out his blood upon the scaffold; 
he is longing to join " the souls which were beheaded for the 
witness of .lesus, and for the word of God." So far from 



350 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

being dismayed, because he knew that his martyrdom was 
at hand; he who knew not what it was to boast, yet know- 
ing in whom he had trusted ; feeUng his eternal redemption 
drawing nigh, could exclaim with a holy bravery; " I have 
finished my course; I kept the faith." 

Then in a rapture of triumphant joy at the mental view of 
the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous 
Judge, " had prepared for him agamst the great day," that 
same unparalleled philanthropy, which he had so constantly 
manifested, breaks out and consecrates a moment, when we 
might have supposed the immediate nearness of his own 
unspeakable blessedness would have engrossed his whole 
soul. His religion was no selfish piety, his hope no solitary 
salvation. Gratitude swells into its highest transport from 
the reflection that the Lord Jesus had not exclusively re- 
served the crown for him, no, nor for the beloved Timothy, to 
whom he writes, nor for the multitude of his own friends, 
nor for the converts who were to be peculiarly " his joy and 
crown of rejoicing;" but "for all them also which love 
his appearing," for all " the redeemed of the Lord to the 
end of the world. 



CHAP. XIII. 

A general vieiv of the qualities of St. Paul: his knowledge oj 
human nature — his delicacy in giving advice or reproof — 
his integrity. 

There is in St. Paul's writings and conduct, such a 
warmth and openness; so much frankness and candor; such 
an unreserved pouring out of his very soul ; such a free 
disclosure of his feelings, as well as of his opinions; such 
an elevation, mingled with such a soberness of thinking; so 
much social kindness, with so much divine love; so much 
practical activity, with such deep spirituality; so much 
human prudence, with so much of the wisdom which is 
from above; so much tenderness for the persons of men, 
with so little connivance at their faults; so much profes- 
sional dignity, with so much personal humility, — as it would 
be difficult to find in any other human being. 

Yet in all these opposite excellences, there is nothing 
that is not practicable, nothing that is not imitable. His 
religion, like his morality, has a peculiar sedateness. His 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 351 

ardent feelings betray him into no intemperance of speech, 
into no inequahty of action. His piety is free from eccen- 
tricity, his faith from presumption. 

Uniformly we find a great reasonableness in his charac- 
ter; and it adds to his value as an example, that he was, if 
we may be allowed so familiar an expression, eminently a 
man of business. His transactions, indeed always tended 
to the same end with his devotions and his instructions ; he 
was full of care, but it was the care of all the churches; 
each day was fully occupied, but it was that same " care " 
which came upon him, not only as a Sunday, but as a daily 
care. 

The perfection in which he possessed this quality, proves 
that his devotedness had in it nothing of abstraction. He 
exhibited no contempt of the common usages, no renuncia- 
tion of the common comforts of life, when the former could 
with propriety be observed, or the latter be lawfully enjoy- 
ed; no coveting of sufferings, when they could be consci- 
entiously avoided. He was no pattern for ascetics, no pro- 
totype for Stylites. He bequeathed no example of bodily 
macerations, nor uncommanded austerities, nor penances 
unprofitably aiming at atonement. His idea of self-denial 
was to sacrifice his own will; his notion of pleasing God 
was to do and suffer the Divine will. 

His discretion was scarcely less conspicuous than his 
zeal: unhke some enthusiastic Christians in the early ages 
of the Church, who, not contented to meet persecution, 
invited it; he never sought, whilst he never shrunk from 
danger. Though his life was one continued martyrdom, to 
which the brief suflJering of the stake or the axe would have 
been a mercy, yet he was contented to live for lengthened 
services: though he would have finished his course with joy 
to himself, he was willing to protract it for the glory of 
God; though he counted not his life dear, yet he knew it to 
be useful, and therefore desired its continuance. 

He was entirely exempt from that indiscreet zeal which 
seems to glory in provoking the displeasure of the world. 
He had nothing of that bad judgment, which seeks distinc- 
tion from singularity. His straight-forward rectitude neither 
courted the applause, nor despised the good opinion of men 
He who, in the integrity of his heart could say, "We sought 
glory neither of you nor yet of others;" in the tenderness 
of that heart could say, to the same persons, " for what is 
our hope, or joy, or crown of rejoicing; are not even ye, — 
ye are our glory and joy." 

He was totally free from any irrational confidence in 



352 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

supernatural interpositions. Though living under the in- 
fluence of the Holy Spirit, he felt no enthusiastic inflation. 

Though, in his perilous* voyage, assured by an angel of 
God that there should be no loss of lives, yet he helped 
with his own hands to throw out the tackling, and the ship 
must be worked by his direction. He went farther, declaring, 
"except the men abide in the ship, ye cannot be saved." 
Could the boldest impugner of Divine Providence have ex 
ercised more prudence, have exhibited more activity ? 

Not only from this passage, but from the general spirit 
of his writings, we may learn, that merely to say, we trust 
in God for the accomplishment of any thing within our 
power, without using ourselves the rational means of ac- 
complishing it, is a total want of sense; and not entirely to 
trust in Him, while we are using them, is an utter want of 
faith. 

Though favored with immediate revelations from above, 
yet was Paul so singularly modest, as only slightly to advert 
to divine communications, and then in the name of a third 
person, — I knew a man in Christ. — So continent of speech, 
as not even to disclose this distinction till near fourteen 
years after it had been conferred. May we not then agree 
with the sagacious Paley, that " St. Paul's mind had none 
of the characteristics of enthusiasm; that the coolness of 
his head always kept pace with the warmth of his heart? " 

His conduct uniformly exhibits the precise distinction 
between Christian wisdom and worldly policy. His boun- 
dary line is clearly defined, and he never steps over it to 
serve a purpose. Of that prudence which is akin to sel- 
fishness, of that discretion which leans to craft, of that 
candor which tends to undue pliancy, of that wisdom which 
is sensual and earthly, he had not the slightest tincture. 
What an illustrious orator of our own time said of his con- 
temporary statesman, may be far more appropriately appli- 
ed to St. Paul, — that, in gaining admiration, /m virtues were 
his aHs.| 

His intellectual powers were admirably constituted to 
second his high moral and spiritual attainments. He had 
an intuitive sagacity of mind. This deep master of the 
science of man was intimately acquainted with all the 
doublings and turnings, the intricacies and perverseness of 
the heart In short he knew the exact point from which to 
take the most comprehensive view of this scene of man; and 
his writings possess this great advantage, that they also put 
the intelligent reader in the position to take the same view. 

* Acts, ch. xxvii. f Mr. Burke of tlie Marquis of Rockingham. 



ESSAY Ox\ ST. PAUL. Sb3 

He knew every plait and fold of the human character. He 
had studied the species in all its modifications and varieties, 
from the monarch on the throne to the meanest officer in 
his court ; from the high priest presiding in the Sanhedrim, 
to the Pharisee praying in the street: of the intolerance 
of the one, he had had personal experience; through the 
duplicity of the other, his keen eye could pierce, without 
consulting the breadth of his phylactery. 

The same acute penetration brought him no less ac- 
quainted with the errors of the well-intentioned, with the 
weaknesses of the wise, with the failings of the virtuous, 
and the inconsistencies of even the conscientious. Yet did 
he never convert his knowledge of all the shades of the 
human mind to an unkind, malevolent or selfish purpose 
It never taught him to hate the unworthy, with whose obli- 
quities it made him acquainted; or to despise the weak 
whose infirmities it had discovered. So far was he from 
availing himself of his sagacity, by turning the vices or 
imbecilities of others to his own account, that it inspired 
him with a more tender and compassionate feeling for the 
frailties of their common nature. 

In perusing his epistles, we should always bear in mind, 
that St. Paul is not addressing the profligate and profane, 
but converts, or, at least, religious professors. This con- 
sideration would prevent our putting the reproofs and cor- 
rections which he thought necessary for them at too great 
a distance from ourselves. Into this danger we may be too 
much inclined to fall, if we do not bring these people nearer 
to what we suppose to be our own level. They were already 
Christians. It was not, therefore, always necessary to 
arrange all the fundamental doctrines into a regular system, 
much less to begin with a formal exposition of the elements 
of a religion, with the principles of which they were already 
imbued; or at least with the doctrines of which they were 
acquainted. This manner of addressing them is a proof 
that their progress was already considerable. 

The first epistle is inscribed "to all that are at Rome, 
beloved of God, called to be saints, whose faith is spoken 
of throughout the world." The next is "to the church of 
God at Corinth, with all the saints in Achaia." Another "to 
the saints that are at Ephesus, and to the faithful in Christ 
Jesus." Again, "to the saints and faithful brethren in 
Christ at Colosse." His letters to individual friends, de- 
signates also the piety of his correspondents. "To Timo- 
thy, his son in the faith;" " to Titus, his own son after the 
common ftiith." And in writing to the Ho])rnws collectively, 



354 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

he denominates them " holy brethren, partakers of the 
heavenly calling." 

It would be well if the generality of Christians could 
inspire to rank with any of these classes. St. Paul's 
knowledge of mankind, however, of which we have said 
so much, would prevent his addressing the best of his con 
verts, as characters who did not require either caution, 
correction, or improvement. He knew even after they 
had adopted the Christian profession, how pertinaciously 
bad habits would cleave to some, how much besetting sins, 
natural infirmity, temptation without, and passion within, 
would impede the progress of others. He was aware that 
many who thought themselves sincere, and perhaps really 
were so, were yet careless and cold hearted; that many 
who were warm in profession, were selfish, indolent, covet- 
ous; that many who appeared to be lovers of God, were 
yet inordinately lovers of pleasure; that some who profess- 
ed to be dead to sin, were alive to the world. "Alexander 
did him much evil;" — "Demas forsook him;" " Phygellus 
and Hermogenes turned away from him." 

The persons to whom he wrote might, on the whole, be 
considered as no unfair specimen of professing Christians 
in every age. Consequently neither his doctrine nor his 
precepts can, by any fair rule of judgment, be limited to 
the community, or even to the individual, to whom they 
were immediately inscribed; he has erected his mandate 
into an unalterable standard of general Christianity. 

The inspiring guide of St. Paul knew that human nature, 
left to its own specific operation, would be the same in that 
church of Rome to which his Epistle was addressed, as in 
the now existing church of that metropolis, — a church 
which has so far departed from the simplicity of its foun- 
der; that the church of Ephesus would differ only in its 
local circumstances and form of government from the church 
of England; that the same sort of beings, with the same 
wants and weaknesses which composed the church of Ga- 
latia, would compose that of Geneva and of Holland ; that 
it was not the Corinthian convert alone who should be- 
come " a new creature;" that it was not the member of 
^nj particular community that must " put off the old man 
with his deeds;" he knew that the transmuting power of 
true religion would confer the same character of newness 
upon every genuine believer; that as in every age the 
principle is the same, so also will be the results. 

In illustration of these general remarks, let us select a 
particular case. — Our apostle had not studied the human 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 355 

heart to so little purpose as not to perceive that it is of 
itself commonly indisposed to liberality. Even where a 
measure of religious feeling has conferred or enlarged this 
virtue, he knew that it requires excitement to keep the 
flame alive; that if easily kindled by some affecting tale, 
or some present object, it may, by being left to itself, be as 
easily extinguished. He knew that impressions, if not 
immediately followed up, and acted upon, soon wear out; 
that a warm impulse, if left to cool, evaporates in mere 
profession. On this principle, then, we find him delicately 
reminding the Corinthians * of the zeal with which they 
had voluntarily engaged to raise a fund for the indigent, 
and remonstrating on the obligation to put their own plan 
in execution, by distributing as well as collecting. 

In suggesting this duty, he takes a circuitous path, by 
intimating the necessity of consistency in the conduct of 
Christians, by dwelling on the expediency of those who 
abounded in faith and eloquence, and religious knowledge, 
abounding also in acts of beneficence; and by hinting that 
a high profession, without that broad principle of Chris- 
tian charity, of which he knew almsgiving to be one fruit, 
would be an anomaly discreditable to themselves, and in- 
jurious to religion. 

He then proposes to them, with the hand of a master, 
persuasions, arguments, and examples; he makes duties 
grow out of motives, and impresses both by actual in- 
stances. He mentions, in a sort of incidental way, the 
benevolence of a less opulent and less instructed people, 
the Macedonians; and, according to his invariable custom, 
produces their charity as growing out of their piety. Theij 
gave themselves first unto the Lord, and then, as the effect 
would naturally follow the cause, they gave unto us by the 
will of God. He informs them, that this generous people 
did not wait to confer their bounty till it was solicited. He 
intimates, that in this instance it was not those who wanted 
the charity, but those who gave it, "that pressed it with 
much entreaty:" instructively hinting, that they had made 
the true use of afflictions; for that " their poverty," instead 
of being pleaded as an apology for withholding their chari- 
ty, " abounded to the riches of their liberality." 

This was a powerful intimation, that if those more indi- 
gent converts had been so bountiful, what might not be 
expected from the opulent metropolis of the regions of 
Achaia.'' It was also an experiment of their sincerity; for 
if they were more forward in profession, and more abun- 

* 2 Cor. cli. viii. 



356 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

dant in graces, would it not be an expected consequence, 
that they should be more abundant in works of charity.'' 

And, finally, not contented with pressing upon them the 
example of a church of inferior note, he rises suddenly to 
the sublimest of all precedents. He does not, to them, 
quote any injunction of their Divine Master to charity, 
though with such injunctions the Gospel abounds; but in 
a manner strong, and instant, unexpectedly presses his 
example, and in the loftiest possible instance:* "For ye 
know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, though he was 
rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, that ye through 
his poverty might be rich." To what a trifle, to what a 
nothing, does he, by this admirable turn, reduce the largest 
pecuniary bounty, by directing their attention to the un- 
speakable gift! 

To the same purpose he directs his friends at Ephesus, 
in his last affectionate discourse, to the precept of Christ. 
After the most powerful exhortations, he alludes to his 
having himself supplied his necessities by the labor of 
his own hands, in order to the exercise of charity; and 
then, lest they should suppose this to be any vaunt of his 
self-denial, rather than a declaration made to stimulate his 
hearers to similar industry, by a similar motive of charity, 
— he sums up the charge by a most powerful incitement, 
equal of itself to account for his own generosity, as well as 
to awaken theirs, producing the only posthumous quotation 
which Scripture has preserved of the Divine Instructer: 
" Remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, it 
is more blessed to give than to receive." 

Another instance of his delicacy is, that in addressing 
the same people, when he would lower to its just inferiority 
the value of gifts and miraculous powers, in comparison of 
the more excellent ivay, he does not directly point at their 
vanity and self-exultation, but with a refinement worthy 
the attention of all censors, he transfers the application to 
himself — Though I (not though you) speak with the 
tongues of men and of angels; though I have the gift of 
prophecy and faith; though / bestow all my goods to feed 
the poor, and have not charity, / am nothing. f 

As he thought it necessary, in this address, to adduce 
the strongest supposable instances, even instances which 
could not be thought to exist, there was no method which 
could so effectually expose the radical evil of uncharitable- 
ness with so little offence to those who were guilty of it, as 
to apply the imaginary case to his own person: nor could 

*2 Cor. ch. viii. tl Cor. ch. xiii. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 357 

the most elaborate harangue on the beauty of charity have 
produced without it so powerful an effect; nor would any 
delineation of all the opposite vices, which were notorious- 
ly practised by the proud and sensual Corinthians, have 
affected them so much, as this beautiful portrait of the 
heavenly virtue in which many of them were eminently 
deficient, and to whom the picture therefore presented 
such a contrast. 

Yet, while he thus combated their preference of those 
which might raise admiration, to those which tended to the 
public good, he thought proper to let them see that the 
inferior value he set on them was not to screen or justify 
any ignorance of his own; and that, as is too commonly 
the case, he did not depreciate learning, because he did 
not possess it. 

After having enjoined on the Thessalonians, that it was 
their duty "to love one another, as they were taught of 
God," lest it might look like a suspicion rather than a 
reminding, he encouragingly subjoins, — " and indeed ye 
do it." In the same spirit, after saying to the same 
church, " Comfort yourselves together, and edify one 
another," he again intimates that they did not so much 
require to be instructed as congratulated, by adding, 
" even as also ye do." 

Again, with a holy generosity, when he has any thing 
to notice, which he can honestly praise, the commendation 
he bestows is undivided ; when any unacceptable point to 
press, he softens prejudices and courts compliance by mix- 
ing himself with the injunction, or involving himself in the 
censure: "Let its cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of 
flesh and spirit." In lamenting, in the seventh of Romans, 
the dominion of sin, he speaks in his own person: in refer- 
ing, in the subsequent chapter, to the dominion of grace, 
he extends the consolation to all believers. On every 
occasion which calls both qualities, gentleness and lowli- 
ness, into exercise, St. Paul shows himself not only to be 
the humblest, but the politest of men. 

Had a late noble and polished preceptor * been as con- 
versant with the Holy Scriptures as he unquestionably was 
with polite literature, and had his principles been as sound 
as his taste, he would have had no occasion to look farther 
than the writings of Paul of Tarsus, for the most complete 
illustration of that favorite maxim, the adoption of which 
he so repeatedly enjoined on his misguided pupil. His 
fine sense, under the influence of religion, would have led 

* Lord Chesterfield. 



358 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

him, while he pressed the injunction, to give it all it want- 
ed, — a right direction. He would have found the siiaviter 
in modo accompany ihefortiter in re, more uniformly in our 
apostle than in any other writer. 

In addition to the numberless instances of this union, 
that occur in his epistles, some of which we have already 
noticed, we cannot forbear mentioning, that in writing to 
Timothy, he recommends "the spirit of power and of a 
sound mind;" to which he subjoins, " hold fast the form of 
sound words." But while he is so peremptory as to the 
force of the matter, he is not less attentive to the duty of 
mildness in the manner. He directs, that the dictates of 
this sound mind be conveyed with affection, — this form of 
sound words he communicated with /oi?e; and in expatiat- 
ing on these gentle graces, we must not forget the situation 
under which he exercised them. 

In the days of prosperous fortune, we frequently see the 
appearance of cheerfulness and complacency in characters 
not remarkable for gentleness of mind: but Paul, under the 
most disastrous circumstances, never fails to exhibit the 
same amiable courtesies. It is therefore not easy to ac- 
count for the prejudices of certain persons, who always 
speak of him, as a character of the most repulsive harsh- 
ness. 

I should be very unwilling to suspect, if a few of these 
critics are to be found among my own sex, that their dis- 
like to this apostle arises from a cause which is rather cal- 
culated to inspire gratitude than to provoke censure. His 
attention, in not being limited to their highest interests, 
but descending also to their minutest concerns, is a proof 
surely that he thought nothing beneath his notice, which 
might raise the dignity and add to the beauty of the female 
character. I should be very unwilling to suppose that their 
disapprobation arises from his having said, " She that liv- 
eth in pleasure is dead while she liveth." Nor could I 
presume to suspect, that his injunction of submission to 
their husbands, — of subordination always, and of silence 
sometimes, — can possibly be the cause of the hostility of 
any Christian ladies. 

Still less would I venture to suppose, that their displeas- 
ure is owing to his having recommended "that women 
should adorn themselves in modest apparel," — nor that 
they should object to him for his preference of " shame- 
facedness" to "costly array," — of "sobriety" to " broi- 
dered hair," — of" good works" to " gold and pearls."* 

* 1 Tim. ch. ii. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 359 

It looks as if St. Paul was of opinion, that the external 
appearance of women was an indication of the disposition 
of the mind; and this opinion it is probable made him so 
earnest in recommending these symbols of internal purity. 
He doubtless more strongly prohibits certain personal de- 
corations, because they were the insignia of the notoriously 
unworthy females of his time. And it may be fairly pre- 
sumed, that he never thought it could be construed into a 
hardship to be cautioned against wearing the badge of the 
profession of Lais. 

If they are of opinion, that his pointedly suggesting to 
them the ornaments of a meek and quiet spirit, was at least 
a superfluous injunction, they will forgive him on the ground 
that he might not think it unnecessary, even to the most 
gentle, to " stir up their pure mind by way of remembrance.'^ 
. It is obvious that he could not possibly entertain any 
prejudices against a sex, in which he counted so many val- 
uable friends. And let it be seriously observed, that in 
whatever relates to pious affections, to Christian practice, 
to disinterested kindness, to zeal and diligence, there was 
obviously, in St. Paul's estimation, neither male noi 
female. For do we not hear more of his affectionate re- 
gard for good women, and of his generous testimony to 
their worth, than we hear of the friendship with the sex of 
any other character in history ? He delights in their praises. 
"Phebe" is warmly commended for her good offices "to 
the saints at Rome," not only as having been an important 
assistant to the apostle himself, but as "the succorer of 
many" Christians. " Priscilla" is honorably recorded as 
"his helper in Christ Jesus," as one who, with her hus- 
band, had, " for his life laid down their necks." For this 
he thankfully observes, they are entitled not only to his 
thanks, but also to " the thanks of all the churches of the 
Gentiles." He acknowledges that " Mary had bestowed 
much labor on him and his converts." The name of " Ap- 
phia," and that of " Julia," is perpetuated by his affection- 
ate gratitude. That of " Chloe" stands prominent in hia 
grateful page. " Tryphena and Tryphosa labored much 
in the Lord." To the honor of British ladies be it remem- 
bered, that his friend " Claudia" was our country-woman.* 

Paul observes that, in the family of Timothy, piety on 

* If any consitleration should increase the interest we take in this blessed 
apostle, it would be the strong presumption, from testimonies recently ad- 
duced by a learned, pious, and laborious prelate, that St. Paul, in all proba- 
bility, preached the Gospel in Britain, to which country it is conjectured, 
after the most diligent research, that he returned with the family of Carac 
tacus. 



360 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

the female side was hereditary, and he congratulates his 
friend on the excellent principles of his two maternal rela- 
tions; and virtually ascribes to these instructresses, " that 
from a child he was acquainted with the Scriptures." Oth- 
ers he has named, whose praise is not only in the churches, 
but whose names are in the book of life. 

Are not these testimonies to female excellence from such 
an eulogist, and in such a cause, 

" Above all Greek, above all Roman fame ?" 

If it stands recorded on the monument of a noble English- 
man, as his highest distinction, that he was friend to Sir 
Philip Sidneij, it stands engraven on a monument more 
durable than brass, even in the indestructible records of 
the Book of God, that so many women were the honored 
friends of the chiefest apostle of Jesus Christ. 

If St. Paul has been further accused by some persons 
of being an enemy to the state of marriage, it must be by 
those who forget to take into the account what a calamitous 
time, that in which he wrote was for Christians, — who for- 
get also his own express declaration, that the suggested 
suspension of such an union was " good for the present dis- 
tress.'^ His compassionate mind foresaw the aggravated 
calamities to which the entrance into this tender connection 
would, at this particular juncture, involve the persecuted 
Christians. Is it not absurd to suppose that this zealous 
apostle of Christ would suggest, as a permanent practice, 
a measure which must in a few years, if persisted in, inevi- 
tably occasion the entire extinction of Christianity itself } 

Since, then, it would be derogatory to any, especially of 
my own sex, to suspect that their objection to St. Paul can 
arise from any of these causes, may we not more rationally 
conjecture, that it proceeds from a prejudice lightly taken 
up on hearsay evidence — a prejudice propagated without 
serious inquiry, without having themselves closely examin- 
ed his writings.'' Such an examination, to which they are 
now earnestly invited, would convince them that, to all his 
exalted qualities, he added, in an eminent degree, urbani- 
ty, feeling, and liberality. 

But nothing more raises our veneration for St. Paul's 
character, than that his extreme sensibility of heart, and 
his rare delicacy in consulting the feelings of others, to 
which we have so frequently referred, is never exercised at 
the expense of his integrity. There are, as we have before 
observed, many upright minds, whose honesty is yet some- 
what disfigured by a harsh temper. They are too consci- 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 361 

entious to censure unjustly, but, knowing tlie censure to 
be merited, they have rather a pleasure in inflicting the 
correction. And though they are not glad the offender 
deserves it, they are not sorry it is their duty to impart it. 
St. Paul never severely reproved another, that he did not 
inflict a wound on his own feelings. Yet though he would 
rather have spared another than himself, he would spare 
neither when the imperative voice of duty demanded plain 
dealing. Gentleness of manner in our apostle was the 
fruit of his piety; the good breeding of some men is a sub- 
stitute for theirs. 

The conduct of St. Peter and St. Paul presents at once 
a striking instance of the integrity of Christian friendship, 
and of the imperfection of human excellence. Before the 
apostles met at Antioch, Peter seems to have erred in a 
material point, not in associating freely with the Gentiles, 
but in disingenuously shunning their society on the return 
of his Jewish friends. This fear of human censure, which 
was not yet entirely extinguished in this great apostle, 
while it strengthened the prejudices of the Jews, weakened 
the influence of the other apostles; misled Barnabas 
"though a good man, and a just;" and not a little alarmed 
Paul. 

This vigilant minister thought the example so fraught 
with dangerous consequences, that he boldly remonstrated 
on this act of duplicity, — an act unlike the general charac- 
ter of Peter, which, except in one awful instance, rather 
inclined to indiscreet frankness. Paul himself informs us, 
in his epistle to the Galatians, that he "withstood him to 
his face," not to gratify any resentment of his own, but be- 
cause his friend "was to be blamed;" not privately, to 
spare his confusion, but "before them all," to avert the 
danger. Nor does this Christian sincerity appear to have 
interrupted their friendship; for it did not prevent Peter, 
on a subsequent occasion, from alluding to Paul as his be- 
loved brother. From this circumstance we may learn among 
other things, that the " fear of man," is one of the linger- 
ing evils which quits the human heart with the greatest 
reluctance: it shows that it may cleave to him, even in his 
renovated state, and that therefore the same vigilance is 
necessary in this, as in his previous character. 

Peter, on this occasion, gave an instance of that prompt 
repentance which he had so repeatedly manifested after the 
commission of an error. He offered no justification of his 
fault, but observed a meek silence. We learn also, from 
the recorded failings of St. Peter, that this first bishop of 

16 



362 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

Rome, at least, did not arrogate to himself the claim of 
infallibility. 

St. Paul's kindness for his brethren, never made him on 
any occasion lose sight of his courageous integrity. Con- 
sidering the Gentile proselytes to be peculiarly the objects 
of his care, he resolutely defended them from the necessity 
of submitting to the law of Moses, thus preserving to the 
Gentiles their liberty, and to the Gospel its purity. By his 
firmness in this instance, a great obstacle to the reception 
of Christianity was removed. 

May we here be allowed to observe, though somewhat 
out of place, that the characters of these two apostles are 
brought forward with such remarkable prominency and 
detail, in Sacred History, that it would be a subject well 
worthy some able pen, to delineate the characters of the 
men, and interweave that of their writings, in some con- 
nected work. Thus placed in one frame, we should have 
a most interesting view of these two eminent persons as 
the representatives of the Gentile and the Jewish Churches 
of Christ. This representation, incorporated with the cir- 
cumstances which distinguished the first promulgation of 
the Gospel, renders every particular concerning them 
highly affecting. 

But to return. It is to be observed, as a fresh proof of 
the honesty and the spirit of self renunciation which gov- 
erned our apostle, that when he reprehends the Corin- 
thians for their imprudence in opposmg one minister to an- 
other; — in the partiality and favoritism which he condemns, 
he makes no exception for Paul: the preference to himself 
above Apollos would not gratify a mind, who, beside the 
danger to the flattered individual, saw the evil of opposi- 
tion, of rivalry, of division, let who will be the person pre- 
ferred. 

He might have seen the dangerous and blinding influ- 
ence of excessive prepossession and party attachment; when 
even his wise and virtuous contemporary, Seneca, could 
say of Cato, that he would rather esteem drunkenness a 
virtue than think Cato vicious. Nor would he probably 
have accepted of the same compliment which Cicero pays 
to the famous discourse on the Immortality of the Soul, — 
that though Plato had given no reason for it, yet his 
author'itij would have determined him. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 363 

CHAP. XIV. 

iS^ Paul on the Love of Money. 

Among the innumerable difficulties daily incident to the 
life of man, we may reckon as not among the least, the 
danger almost inseparable, which attends the yet inevita- 
ble necessity for money. To reconcile integrity in the 
pursuit with innocence in the possession, is indeed to con- 
vert a perilous trial into a valuable blessing. Riches are 
no evil in themselves: the danger lies, in not being able to 
manage the temptation they hold out to us. Even where 
the object is fairly pursued, and the acquisition not unfairly 
appropriated, a close application to the attainment of 
wealth is not without its snares to the most upright and 
liberal mind. 

Even these better-disposed persons, in spite of purity of 
intention and integrity of conduct, are in constant danger, 
while in pursuit of their object, of being entangled in compli- 
cated schemes, and overwhelmed with excessive solicitude, 
of being so overcharged with the cares of this world, as to 
put that world which is out of sight, out of mind also. 

Others find, or fancy, that there is a shorter cut and a 
surer road to riches, than that in which plodding industry 
holds on his slow and weary way. Industry is too dull 
for an enterprising spirit ; integrity too scrupulous for the 
mind which is bent on a quick accomplishment of its object 
The rewards of both are too remote, too uncertain, and 
too penurious, for him, " who maketh haste to be rich." 

Much occurs to this point, in St. Paul's charge to Tim- 
othy, contained in the latter part of the last chapter of his 
first epistle. Keeping one main end in view, the apostle 
has indeed adopted a sort of concealed method, which 
requires some attention in the reader to discover. The 
general drift of this powerful exhortation is, less to guard 
his beloved friend himself, who was perhaps in compara- 
tively small danger from the temptation, than to induce 
him to warn those over whom he had the spiritual superin- 
tendence, against the love of money. In order to this, he 
does not immediately enter upon the main subject, but 
opens with another proposition, though in no very remote 
connection with it; a proposition the most important, and 
the most incontrovertible, namely, the immense gain to 
that soul which should combine o-odliness with conlenbnenf. 



364 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

He knew the union to be inseparable; that as godliness 
cannot subsist without contentment, so neither can true 
contentment spring from any other than an inward princi- 
ple of real piety. All contentment, which has not its 
foundation in religion, is merely constitutional — animal 
hilarity, the flow of blood and spirits in the more sanguine 
character; coldness and apathy in the more indifferent. 

The pressing, then, this preliminary principle, was be- 
ginning at the right end. A spirit of contentment is 
stifling covetousness in its birth; it is strangling the ser- 
pent in the cradle. Strong and striking are the reasons 
which the apostle produces against discontent. To the 
indigent he says, " they brought nothing into the world," 
therefore they need the less murmur at possessing little 
in it. To the wealthy he holds out a still more powerful 
argument against the rage canine of dying rich, when he 
reminds them that they " can carry nothing out of it." 

This reflection he intends at once to teach content to 
the poor, and moderation to the rich. The one should be 
satisfied with a bare subsistence, for the poorest cannot 
be poorer than when they came into the world: the other 
should not enlarge their desires for boundless indulgences, 
to the means of gratifying which, as well as to the gratifi- 
cation itself, the grave will so soon put a period. 

The apostle, having shown his deep insight into the 
human mind by his brief but just view of the subject, goes 
on to show the miserable consequences of discontent, or, 
which is the same thing, of an indefinite desire of wealth. 
" They that luill be rich, fall into temptation and a snare, 
and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men 
in destruction and perdition." The words are weighty 
and powerful, and amply verified by experience, whether 
we consider money in its acquisition or in its possession. 
Its votaries " fall into a snare." 

We have need to be more intently on the watch against 
the intrusions of this unsuspected sin, because there is not 
one which intrenches itself within so many creditable pre- 
tences; none in which more perverted passages are ad- 
duced from Scripture itself in its support. "If any 
provide not for those of his own house, he is worse than 
an infidel," is frequently translated into a language foreign 
to its meaning, unfavorable to dispersing abroad. That 
charity begins at home, is not seldom pleaded as a reason 
why she should never turn out. There is one plea always 
ready as an apology for the eagerness for amassing super- 
fluous wealth; and it is a plea which has a good look. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 365 

fVe must j)rovidcfor our children is the pretence, but we 
must indulge our avarice, is the truth. Tlie fact is, a man 
is provident for his family, but he is covetous for himself. 
The sordid mind and the grasping hand are too eager to 
put off their gratification to so remote a period as the fu- 
ture aggrandizement of those for whom they pretend to 
amass. The covetous man hungers for instant gratifica- 
tion, for the pleasure of counting his hoards, for the pride 
of " calling his lands by his own name." 

Even many professing Christians, speak with horror of 
public diversions, or even of human literature, as con- 
taining the essence of all sin, yet seem to see no turpi- 
tude, to feel no danger, to dread no responsibility, in any 
thing that respects this private, domestic, bosom sin; this 
circumspect vice, this discreet and orderly corruption. Yet 
the sins which make no noise are often the most danger- 
ous, and the vices of which the effect is to procure respect, 
instead of contempt, constitute the most deadly snare. 

Wit has not been more alert in shooting its pointed 
shafts at avarice, than argument has been busy in its de- 
fence. No advocate, it is true, will venture to defend it 
under its own proper character; but avarice takes the 
license used by other felons, and, by the adoption of an 
alias, escapes the reprobation attached to its own name. 
Covetousness has a bad sound; it is, if we may be allowed 
the application, a moral cacophony, a fault which no critic 
in ethics can at any rate tolerate. It is a tacit confession 
of its hateful nature, and its possessor never avows its real 
name, even to himself. This quality not only disguises its 
turpitude by concealment, but shrouds its own character 
under the assumed name of half the virtues. When ac- 
cused, it can always make out a good case. It calls itself 
frugality, moderation, temperance, contempt of show, self^ 
denial, sobriety; thus at once cherishing the pleasure and 
the profit of the sin, and the escaping its infamy. 

Even the most careless in conduct, the most negligent 
of character, he who never defends himself against the 
charge of what he calls the more generous vices, indig- 
nantly fights off* the imputation of this. While he deems 
it a venial off*ence to deny himself no guilty pleasures, to 
pay no just debts, he would repel the accusation of being 
sordid as strongly as a man of principle. Yet at the same 
time his thirst of money may be as ardent, in order to 
make a bad use of it, as his who covets it without intend- 
ing to use it at all. 

Let not therefore " the snares of this world and the de- 



366 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

ceitfulness of riches " make us forget that he who covets 
money as a means to other forbidden gratifications, is as 
much guilty of covetousness as he who desires it as an 
end. He who makes it the minister to improper indul- 
gences, is not less criminal as an example, and is far more 
criminal as to the effects of his conduct, than he who cov- 
ets in order that he may amass. The word of inspiration 
calls covetousness idolatry; but are not inordinate lovers 
of pleasure, for which money supplies the aliment, idola- 
tors also, inasmuch as the sacrifices they offer to their idol 
prevents their being " lovers of God?" 

If this ensnaring love of money assumes to be connect- 
ed with the sober qualities, which is commonly the case 
in quiet minds, it is far otherwise in those of a difTerent 
order. In most minds it is the enemy of charity. The 
demands of this great duty are amongst the first and most 
easy sacrifices at the shrine of mammon, more especially 
where a too large scale of expense has been established, 
and a reduced expenditure is thought necessary: how oflen 
do we see the first deduction made, by withholding a little 
paltry sum which had been assigned by charity ; a sum 
perhaps originally disproportionate to the general habits 
of expense ; while no blow is aimed at the redundances of 
a devouring luxury, of an inordinate vanity ; though the 
retrenchment in the first instance will scarcely be felt, 
while, in the latter, it might restore the power, not only 
of perpetuating, but of augmenting beneficence. 

But the mischief is of still wider extent. In more ani- 
mated minds the love of money is frequently allied to the 
bolder vices; to rapacity, to oppression, to injustice: and 
as these more formidable sins are usually practised for the 
purpose of obtaining the means of splendor, magnificence, 
and show: wealth, even thus obtained, not seldom pro- 
cures its own protection. The gay and unthinking, whose 
grand object in life is to multiply the scenes of dissipation, 
and who enjoy these pleasant effects of their neighbor's 
vices by participating in the amusements they procure, are 
not very inquisitive as to the source from whence these 
prodigal pleasures flow. The unsuccessful aspirer after 
forbidden wealth is indeed not only avoided but stigma- 
tized; with them his crime lies not so much in the attempt 
as in4he failure; while prosperous corruption easily works 
itself into favor: having first struggled for oblivion for the 
cause, it soon obtains praise for the effect, and finds little 
difficulty in maintaining a station which it required some 
management to reach. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 367 

But if there are few vices which separate a man less from 
the friendship of the world, than avarice, there are few that 
separate him more widely from the duty which he owes to 
his neighbor, or stand more fearfully between his soul and 
his God; " it drowns men in destruction and perdition." 
When the eye is first opened on the eternal world, hov/ 
will many among the rich, the powerful, the flattered, be 
astonished to find all the attributes which made them great 
extinct; all the appendages which made them arrogant, 
vanish; to find — nothing but themselves. 

It is to be observed, that St. Paul not only calls the love 
of money an evil, for in this view, where the passion is ac- 
knowledged, it is commonly considered; but he proceeds 
further to denominate it the "root," the radical principle, 
not only of one evil, but of all evil. Besides that there is 
scarcely any sin which the determined lovers of money will 
not be led to commit, in order to gain money, there are 
also, as we have observed, innumerable evils in its misap- 
plication when gained; these he probably included in their 
general condemnation. Other vices are loved for their own 
sake, but riches are idolized for the sake of every indul- 
gence of which they procure the enjoyment, of every vice 
to which that enjoyment leads. 

This it is which makes riches the general centre of hu- 
man desire. They who do not accumulate money, persuade 
themselves that they do not love it; but many love it for 
far other ends than to hoard it. St. Paul knew that it was 
the universal snare; a trap appropriately baited with every 
allurement congenial to the taste of the person on whom 
the temptation is to be practised; — to the elegant desires of 
the more refined, or the coarser appetite of the more gross- 
ly voluptuous. The sensual, the aspiring, the vain, and the 
prodigal, all consider it as the grand, indispensable material 
with which to build their visionary fabrics of happiness. 

Money is the most efficient tool with which ambition 
works; it is the engine of political mischief, and of domestic 
oppression; the instrument of individual tyranny, and of 
universal corruption. Money is the elementary principle 
of pleasure; it is the magnet which, to the lover of flattery, 
attracts parasites; which the vain man loves for the circle 
it describes about him, and the train which it draws after 
him, even more than for the actual enjoyments which it 
procures him. It is the grand spring and fountain of pride 
and self-sufficiency; more especially to those who have no- 
thing better to value themselves upon; to those of inferior 
education, suddenly raised to wealth or power; to those 



368 ESSAY ox ST. PAUL. 

who are deficient in intellectual as well as spiritual end n- 
ments. In short, as the fabled king turned every thnig 
into gold which he touched, so its craving possessor turns 
gold into every thing he desires. It is the substance and 
the essence which, under endless modifications, ensnares, 
betrays, and finally disappoints the heart of man. 

After enumerating the various moral dangers to which 
the love of money lays the heart open, the apostle adverts 
to its highest possible corruption; he declares it to be the 
root of apostasy. He doubtless alluded to his own imme- 
diate knowledge of certain persons, who, while they " cov- 
eted after riches, had erred from the faith." There is 
something extremely touching in this effect of covetousness, 
which St. Paul appears himself to have witnessed among 
some of whom he had once seemed to hope better things; — 
they had pierced themselves through with many sorrows, with 
incurable anguish perhaps, for that abandonment of God, 
into which covetousness had seduced them. 

It was probably these living instances of the ruin of vir- 
tuous principles by this vice, which leads him to warn even 
Timothy, so great a proficient in piety, of the perils attach- 
ed to the love of money. And nothing affords matter of 
more awful reflection to the most sincere Christian, than 
that Paul thought it necessary to caution his " dearly be- 
loved Timothy, his own son in the faith," Timothy, the 
exemplary bishop of Ephesus, against the snares of this 
insidious enemy. Shall a common, shall even a sincere 
Christian, think vigilance superfluous, when this distin- 
guished saint was not only charged to caution others, but 
to guard himself against this most treacherous of all tempt- 
ations ? 

There is something peculiarly solemn in the apostle's 
mode of adjuring Timothy to avoid this sin. The single 
apostrophe, " O man of God!" would be a panoply against 
the temptation. The implied impossibility that a man of 
God could be a coveter of money, was equal to a thousand 
arguments against it. 

The two-fold guard with which he arms Timothy is 
equally applicable to all Christians. He does not say, de- 
liberate on your danger, reason on the temptation, produce 
your strong arguments against it, — but flee these things. 
Flight is in this case the only courage ; escape the only 
security; turning your back upon the enemy, the only sure 
means of conquering him. 

But St. Paul does not only direct what is to be avoided, 
but what is to be done. The flight from sin is not a mere 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL 



369 



negative act, it involves positive duties; in its view it in- 
volves, folloiving after righteousness, godliness, faith, love, 
patience, meekness. All these spiritual and moral graces he 
draws up in battle array, to assist as auxiliaries in the com- 
bat he is about to enjoin. The Christian will have to main- 
tain a conflict with corruption and temptation, during the 
whole scene of action. Going on to sustain the metaphor 
drawn from the military warfare, he calls on Timothy as a 
faithful soldier of Jesus Christ; and while he exhorts him to 
fight the good fight of faith, he presents to his view the crown 
ofvictory. He assures him that it will not be a mere gra- 
tuitous fight, he ivill lay hold on eternal life. 

He reminds Timothy of his special vocation '' whereunto 
thou art called." He animates him with the quickening 
recollection of the glorious profession he had made; and 
that, not in the retirement of devotion, but "before many 
witnesses,'' intimating how much the honor of the Gospel 
is concerned in the proficiency, the steadfastness, the per- 
severance to the end, of all its professors, especially of its 
appointed teachers. He not only reminds him of his pro- 
fession at his baptism, and consecration to the ministry, but 
in order to elevate his mind to the highest pitch, he adjures 
him in the sight of God, xvho quickeneth all things, and could 
raise him to immortal glory; and, as if he would fill his 
mind with every grand and awful image, reminds him of 
the " good confession made by the Divine Confessor before 
Pontius Pilate," exhorting him, from all these lofty motives, 
to "keep this commandment spotless and unreproachable 
until the appearance of our Lord Jesus Christ!" In so 
doing, men could not rebuke him, religion would not be 
wounded by him, and his Saviour would finally receive him 
with the plaudit he has promised, and the crown he had 
purchased. 

The sublime doxology which follows; the ascription to 
God, of all power, praise, and dominion, glory and immor- 
tality; the fervor of his mind, rapt as it seems to be with 
the present view of the blessed and only Potentate, King 
of kings. Lord of lords, immortal, invisible, unapproachable, 
and surrounded with visions of glory, — do not make the 
apostle forget to revert to the main object of his charge, 
the danger of riches: or rather, the anticipation of future 
bliss had fired his soul with more intense zeal against that 
sin which he thought most likely to shut out his beloved 
converts from the^enjoyment of it; " Charge them that are 
rich in this world, that they trust not in uncertain riches."^ 
Having thus shown the nature of riches — "uncertain" 



370 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

in every thing but their danger, — he soon despatches the 
concluding and most pleasant part of his office, by showing 
how the Christian use of riches may convert a snare into a 
blessing; an instrument of ruin into an evidence of faith. 
He proposes a scheme of moral usury, shows that there is 
a species of avarice which he not only allows, but enjoins, 
that they who are rich in this world increase the interest of 
their money by laying it out in good works; that they lay 
up in store against the day to come ; against a remoter period 
than that for which the covetous provide. This is beating 
the miser at his own weapons; this is indeed giving per- 
petuity to riches; what they lay out for the poor they lay up 
for themselves, by lending unto the Lord. This is a legiti- 
mate love of money, this is a covetousness worthy of a 
Christian. This is indeed lodging their treasure beyond 
the reach of moth, rust or thieves. 

He cautions them against the love of riches, from their 
uncertainty ; an argument likely to weigh with those who 
are blind to higher considerations; an argument more illus- 
trated to us by actual instances in the late frenzy of revolu- 
tion, than any other period of history. He then contrasts 
what is uncertain with what is solid and durable. That 
confidence which is not to be placed in " uncertain riches," 
he directs to be transferred to "the living God," the foun- 
dation of all substantial opulence, the giver of all the good 
that is enjoyed; the giver of all "the power to get wealth," 
and of the heart to use it to his glory. This readiness "to 
distribute," this willingness "to communicate," these un- 
equivocal fruits of faith, obedience, and love, not the pur- 
chase of heaven but the evidences of faith in him who died 
to purchase it for them, will not be rejected by real Chris- 
tians, after his declaration, "inasmuch as ye have done it 
unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done 
it unto me." 

When we consider the contradiction which the lives of 
some authors, on rehgious subjects, form with their writings, 
may they not be said somewhat to resemble the workmen 
employed in building the ark .? These infatuated men spent 
years in preparing an asylum from the deluge, without prac- 
tically believing that it would ever take place. While they 
were mechanically employed in working for the salvation 
of the others, their labor made no provision for their own 
safety. The sweeping flood descends; but the builders are 
excluded from the very refuge which they have assisted in 
providing ! 

How different was the conduct of our apostle? His ex- 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 371 

hortation in this, as in all other instances, derives u-reat ad- 
ditional weight from the consistency of his conduct with 
his writings. The philosopher Seneca, composed his ex- 
cellent book of Ethics, in the same city, and near the same 
time in which this Epistle to Timothy was written. He 
suffered also a violent death under the same Roman empe- 
ror with St. Paul. In the writings of the philosopher are 
many beautiful passages directed against the vice we have 
been considering, and no one ever inveighed more point- 
odly against the luxurious indulgences to which riches are 
applied. Yet Seneca, first the disciple of the abstinent 
school of Pythagoras, and afterwards of the self-denying 
sect of the Stoics, made himself, by his inordinate desire 
of amassing wealth, the richest man in Rome, and by his 
passion for splendor the most magnificent. 

This inconsistency of profession with practice, at once 
illustrates the exact difference between speculation and 
conviction, conceit and truth; and serves, without any other 
arguments, which, however, are not wanting, to demonstrate 
the real character of Seneca. Though acquainted probably 
with the religion of Jesus Christ, and not improbably with 
our apostle himself, from his near connection with Gallio, 
one of Paul's judges; yet he can never be considered as its 
convert; and trying them by the testimony of their lives, 
we are obliged to conclude of these two martyred moralists, 
that Paul lived a Christian, and Seneca died a heathen 



CHAP. XV. 

On the genius of Christianity, as seen in St. Paul. 

Had a sinful human being, ignorant of Christianity, la- 
boring under the convictions of a troubled conscience', and 
dreading the retribution which that conscience told him his 
offence merited, — had such a being, so circumstanced, been 
called upon to devise the means of pardon and acceptance 
from an offended Creator, how eagerly, in the hope of re- 
lieving his tormented spirit, would he have put his imagi- 
nation to the stretch! How busily would he have sharpen- 
ed his invention, to suggest something difiicult, something 
terrible, something impossible; something that should have 
exhausted all human means, that should put nature to the 
rack — penanrcs, tortnros. snpiifiros. — nil Tiobnnon for a 



372 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

burnt offering, thousands of rams for an atonement, rivers 
of oil for an oblation, — still concluding that he must per- 
form the act with his own hands, still expecting that him- 
self must be the agent of his own deliverance. 

But when a full offer of peace, of pardon, of reconcilia- 
tion comes from the offended party, comes voluntarily, 
comes gratuitously, comes, not with the thunders of the 
burning mount, but in the still small voice of benignity and 
love, — free love, benignity, as unsought as unmerited; — 
when the trembling penitent is assured, in the cheering 
words of our apostle, that he shall be "justified freely, 
through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus," — when he 
is assured that all that is demanded on his part of the com- 
pact is to accept the propitiation made for his sins, through 
the forbearance and tender mercy of God; when he hears 
that to him, and not to him only, but to all who will accept 
it on the offered terms of faith and repentance, this previ- 
ously inconceivable proposal is made; — who would doubt 
that, overwhelmed with joy and gratitude at the report of a 
world redeemed, he would eagerly fly to lay hold on an 
offer, not only beyond his hope or expectation, but beyond 
his possibility of conception? 

Yet is not the fact too often directly the reverse ? His 
pride had suggested to him, that if some difficult thing were 
to be done, he should have done it himself, — if something 
were to be suffered in the way of hardship and austerity, or 
something achieved in the way of glorious enterprise; some- 
thing that should be splendid in the act, which should bring 
renown to the doer, — then his natural powers would be set 
at work, his energies exerted, his emulation kindled, for he 
would then become the procurer of his own reward, the 
purchaser, or rather the rightful possessor of a heaven of 
his own earning. 

But while God, by a way of his own devising, by a pro- 
cess of his own conducting, had made foolish the wisdom 
of this world, and baffled the vain and impracticable schemes 
of impotent man, for effecting his deliverance by any con- 
ception or act of his own, — does not man's unwillingness 
to partake of the offered mercy, look as if his proud heart 
did not choose to be freely forgiven, as if his haughty inde- 
pendence revolted at a plan, in which, though he has all 
the benefit, he has none of the merit ? Does it not seem as 
if he would improve the terms of the treaty ? as if he would 
mend the plan of salvation, and work it up into a kind of 
partnership scheme, in which his own contribution should 
have the prodominance? 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 373 

But it will be urged, men do not say this; we reply, they 
do not profess it in words: but do not some say it virtually, 
when they practically decline the terms; or, if they do not 
entirely disbeheve them, give at least a reluctant, and par- 
tial, and qualified assent? 

With the genius of Christianity, with its peculiarities, 
with its applicableness to the wants of man, the whole soul 
of St. Paul was singularly imbued. His acute mind, his 
lofty qualities, his penetrating spirit, and his renovated 
heart, entered profoundly into the character and essence 
of the Gospel. His mind was a transcript of divine truth ; 
his life an exemplification of it. What he conceived inti- 
mately, he imparted explicitly. To combat the rebellion of 
the natural man, against the salvation wrought for him, is 
the leading object of his endeavor. He who was always 
looking unto Jesus, as the author and finisher of his own 
faith, uniformly holds him out to others as the sum and 
substance of theirs. 

He delights to dwell on the divine compassion; he intro- 
duces it under every form, he illustrates it by every figure, 
he magnifies it under every mode of expression. Reconcili- 
ation is the grand object of his mission. He exhibits the 
difference between the conduct of the Redeemer, and that 
of man, in this negotiation. In human cases it is usually 
the offender who makes the advances, who tries all means 
to recover the friend he has lost, the patron he has offended. 
But here he shows it to be just the reverse. Here it is the 
insulted benefactor, here it is the injured friend, w^ho con- 
jures the offender to return, who entreats the enemy to be 
reconciled, who promises not only pardon but immunity, not 
only oblivion but reward. The penitent is every where en- 
couraged to believe, that his offences are forgiven, that his 
sins have been punished in his Saviour; that the Judge has 
not only pardoned the malefactor, but has suffered in his 
stead. 

The apostle demonstrates, that God is the fovuitain, not 
only of our mercies, but of our virtues — if we turn, it is 
he who turns us — if we pray, it is he who invites us — if we 
apply to him, it is he *vho first draws us — if we repent, it is 
" the grace of God which leads us to repentance." What- 
ever right thing there may be in us, it is not our natural 
property, but his gift. His bounty is the spring from which 
our goodness, if we have any, flows, instead of our good- 
ness beinij the original motive of his love. 

Hitherto we have sketched, though very superficially, 
Christianity as to its spirit, its design, its offers. We now 



374 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

turn to what is our more immediate object, its practical 
effects, its general results, its transforming nature, its reno- 
vating power. 

If the law of God is spiritual, it is not a conformity to its 
letter, nor is it partialconformity to its spirit, that constitutes 
Christian obedience. Christian obedience is ascertained by 
its universality. It esteems all God's precepts concerning 
all things to be right ; it hates every false way. The prohibitory 
as well as the preceptive principle of the gospel is general. 
Though it makes much allowance for the infirmity of the 
act, it makes none as to its spirit; it confines its prescrip- 
tion to no particular duties, makes no exception for fa- 
vorite virtues, to the exclusion of such as are more difficult, 
or less palatable. If Scripture had barely informed us, that 
it was the perfection of the Christian character, to unite 
in itself, not only different, but opposite qualities; if we had 
been o\\\y told that firmness is little worth, unless combined 
with meekness; that integrity is imperfect, if separated 
from humility ; that the warmest zeal for the good of others, 
must, in order to be acceptable, be connected with the most 
vigilant attention to our own heart; that generosity is a 
spurious virtue, if disconnected with self-denial; that reli- 
gion requires, with a consciousness of divinely infused 
strength, a deep sense of our own helplessness; that while 
it demands a trust in God, so complete, that we must re- 
nounce every other trust, it demands also a holiness so ex- 
act, as if we trusted only in ourselves. 

If we had been only shown, in some thin theory, that it 
is the genius of Christianity thus to amalgamate contraries, 
to blend into one common principle, the deepest self-abase- 
ment with the most active exertions, — if all this had only 
been proposed to us in an abstract way, or drily and didac- 
tically taught, we should have conceived Christianity to be 
a system of pleasing paradoxes, an invention of beautiful 
impracticabilities; we should have thought it an institution 
fabricated for some world, different from ours, for some 
race of immaculate beings, for angels who had stood firm 
in their pristine purity, for creatures who had never lost the 
impression of the Divine image; but never could we have 
imagined it to be a practical religion, intended for the falli- 
ble, peccable children of fallen mortality. 

It has, however, as we observed in an early chapter, 
pleased Infinite Wisdom to give us, in the sacred records, 
striking solutions of this enigma, actual instances of con- 
flicting attributes in men of like passions with ourselves, 
men possessing qualities, which would s«^em to exclude 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 375 

each other, combining contrarieties of excellence. Among 
these, there is not a brighter exemplification, than the great 
apostle of the Gentiles. 

Yet there is nothing in this high description, which ex- 
clusively belongs to St. Paul. Nothing which does not 
address itself individually to us. Though converted by a 
miracle, favored with divine revelations, writing, and fre- 
quently acting, under immediate inspiration; yet was he, 
in the ordinary condition and transactions of life, weak and 
helpless. Though sustained by divine power, he did not 
monopolize it. Nor was it specially vouchsafed to him for 
his common comforts; or earthly deliverances. It was not 
given to rescue him from suffering, but to uphold him under 
it. He was, like his Lord, exposed to all the exigencies of 
a laborious and afflicted life. He was obnoxious to all 
its trials, liable to the snares of the world, and to the temp- 
tations of the great spiritual enemy. If his conflicts were 
more in number, and greater in magnitude than ours, he ob- 
tained victory over them, by a power to which he directs 
us, a power to which we have equal access. The same 
sincerity of petition will procure the same gracious assis- 
tance; that grand resolver of doubt, that omnipotent van- 
quisher of difficulty — my grace is sufficient for thee — though 
directly addressed to St. Paul, is also, through him, ad- 
dressed to every one of us. 

It was probably a charge brought against St. Paul, that 
his conversion contributed little to the improvement of his 
moral and civil virtues. But such an allegation, if made, 
must have come from the party which he had quitted. They 
considered him as an apostate from the faith; they consi- 
dered his zeal for the religion which he had once persecuted, 
as a degrading inconsistency, as a defection from all moral 
goodness. His subsequent lite, which afforded the most lively 
comment on the new doctrines, is the best answer to such 
an allegation. His perseverance afforded a rational con- 
viction, that the change was neither the effect of fear nor 
of fancy. A conduct corresponding to his first emotions, 
and a continually growing excellence, completely repel the 
charge. He who in the first moment of alarm, exclaimed, 
what wilt thou have me to dol did through life all which he 
then desired to be taught. 

Every convert should endeavor to produce in his mea- 
sure and degree, the same proofs that he too is under no 
deception; he should give the same evidence, that he is 
misled by no fanciful illumination; and this can only be 
effected by exhibiting a change of conduct, not only obvious, 



376 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

but permanent; not only during the first terrors or trans- 
ports of which we so frequently hear, but by a steady 
consecration of his whole future life to his Creator. Every 
other plea may be illusion, may be hypocrisy; while this 
test, being visible, will be incontrovertible. The more the 
penitent is observed, the more this paramount evidence 
will eventually remove all doubts. By his patient continu- 
ance in well-doing, he will be likely to lessen the objection 
not only to the individual professing it, but to the doctrine 
itself 

When we compare this blessed apostle, who now fears to 
wound the feelings of others, with the same man who had 
lately no regard even for their lives; the man who now 
treats with tenderness the very prejudices of Christians, 
with him who "before made havoc of the church;" — the 
man whom we find weeping over all sufferings but his own, 
with him who had persecuted "to the death;" when we 
consider him who aforetime was "binding and imprisoning 
the followers of Jesus," now burning with zeal for his 
cause, though he knew that punishments the most severe 
awaited himself; him who had been assisting at the death 
of the first martyr, now heroically pursuing that course 
which he was forewarned would lead to his own martyr- 
dom; the man who " destroyed them who called on the 
name of Jesus," now " confounding the Jews, and proving 
that this is indeed the very Christ " — shall we, when we 
see these astonishing results, refuse our homage to the 
transforming genius of Christianity — to that power which 
enabled this fierce assailant to " put off" the old man with 
his deeds, and to put on the new man, which after God is 
created in righteousness and true holiness?" 

St. Paul did not furnish such authentic evidence of that 
power of God which produced this total revolution in his 
character, merely by suffering death in confirmation of his 
faith — for error has had its confessors, and idolatry its 
martyrs, — but he proved it by the persevering holmess of a 
long and tormented life ; he proved it, by suffering himself 
as courageously as he taught others to suffer. May we 
venture to add, he gave a testimony, less accredited per- 
haps, but almost more convincing. The conceited Phari- 
see is become the humblest of men; the proud bigot is 
meekness personified. — This change of disposition is the 
surest test of his total renovation. The infusion of a 
heavenly temper, where a bad one had predominated, is 
one of the rarest results of Almighty Power. And it not 
< nly affords a substantial proof of the individual improve- 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 377 

merit, but furnishes one of the most striking displays of the 
distinguishing character of our rehgion. 

It is owing to this specific character of Christianity that, 
while philosophy had gloried in its wisdom, St. Paul glories 
only in his weakness. If he ever exults, it is in the 
strength of the hand which employs him. His confidence 
in this supernatural strength explains his paradox, when 1 
am weah then I am strong. Sometimes, indeed, he boasts 
of himself, but it is always of his disadvantages. He 
avows his determination not to avail himself of any person- 
al acquirements; and after his utmost success in "winning 
souls," he expressly disclaims that excellency of speech 
which others consider as the grand instrument for convert- 
ing them. He strips himself of all ground of boasting; 
acknowledges that he comes in iveahiess, in fear, in much 
iremhling; and requires that the glory of every success 
which attended his labors might be wholly ascribed to God. 
He demonstrates that all the wisdom with which the world 
had been dazzled, was to be eclipsed by that hidden wisdom 
" which none of the princes of this world knew," and their 
ignorance of which was the only extenuation that he offers 
of their guilt in " crucifying the Lord of glory." 

The same trials seem in some measure to have been 
reserved for St. Paul which had been sustained by his 
Lord. This was perhaps determined, that he might glorify 
God by meeting them in the same spirit; and thus might 
leave a human example of the highest Christian attain- 
ment. Of Jesus it is recorded, that " his disciples all for- 
sook him and fled." Like him St. Paul declared, in his 
last appearance before the Roman tribunal, "no man stood 
by me, but all men forsook me." As the Master had pray- 
ed for his cruel enemies, — " Father forgive them, for they 
know not what they do," so Paul interceded for his faith- 
less — " I pray God that it may not be laid to their charge." 
Even under this severest blow to natural feelings, the de- 
sertion of those we love, holy Paul forgets not to glorify 
"the Lord, who stood by him, and strengthened him;" 
and who enabled him to act a part consistent with his 
Christian profession, and to bear an honorable testimony 
to the truth of the Gospel before his persecuting judges. 

Thus again did he resemble his great Exemplar, "who, 
before Pontius Pilate, witnessed a good confession." And 
may we not suppose that this example of heroic constancy 
assisted in sustaining our Latimers and our Ridleys, when, 
by manifesting a similar spirit under similar sufferings. 



378 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

they showed their cause and their confidence to be so 
nearly allied to those of the apostle? 

Nor does Christianity, (as we shall have occasion to 
observe more at large hereafter,) limit the exercise of this 
temper to apostles and martyrs, but enjoins it under the 
inferior trials of common life. 

Finally, the judgments of heaven bore the same kind of 
testimony to the truth of the Gospel, in the prison at Phi- 
lippi, as it had done on the Mount of Calvary. In the one 
instance, "Behold the veil of the temple was rent in twain, 
and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent." In the 
other, " Suddenly there was a great earthquake, the foun- 
dations of the prison were shaken, the doors were opened, 
the chains were loosened, the captives were freed, the jail- 
or was converted!" Are not all these circumstances, 
taken together, a clear solution of St. Paul's otherwise 
obscure declaration, that he thus filled up what remained 
of the sufferings of Christ? Did the sense of victory, did 
the joys of peace, did the honorable scars brought from 
the field of battle, ever excite such a feeling in the mind 
of the conqueror, as St. Paul felt at thus bearing in his body 
the marks of the Lord Jesus, and at the encouragement they 
gave him to achieve new conquests? 

What a strange use does Paul immediately make of his 
scourgings and imprisonment at Philippi ? He uses them 
as an argument why his entrance into Thessalonica was 
not in vain! His shameful treatment at the former place, 
instead of intimidating him from further services, redoubled 
his courage to preach to the Thessalonians that very Gos- 
pel which had procured him such disgraceful treatment at 
Philippi. On this occasion he adduces a touching instance 
of the effect of his imprisonment, which, though striking, 
is not singular to those who understand the genius of 
Christianity. His unjust captivity, as the champion of the 
new faith, which, in the opinion of those to whom the mo- 
tive principle of our religion is unknown, would have been 
likely to extinguish the flame, had only served in his esti- 
mation to fan it. Others, timid before, "grew more con- 
fident," by the very bonds which were intended to discou- 
rage them. Their fears were absorbed in their faith, and 
the chains of the saint caused a wider and more rapid 
diffusion of that Gospel which they were intended to stop. 
And though " some preached Christ of contention," yet 
holy Paul was so exhilarated by the general success, that 
he was less solicitous about the motives of the instructor, 
than the progress of the instruction. He looked for the 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 379 

benefit rather from the power of the Gospel, than from the 
purity of the preacher. 

We have repeatedly observed, that an ardent affection 
was one of the prominent features in St. Paul's character: 
it is natural, therefore, that the expression of this temper 
should be particularly stamped on his writings. If he ex- 
presses this satisfaction with more unmingled delight to 
any one church than another, it seems to be to that which 
he had planted at Philippi. He appears to repose himself 
with grateful joy on their fidelity, and with assured hope 
in their progress. In every prayer he makes request for 
them, with a joy, which manifested the dependence he had 
on their perseverance. This was a proof that his "confi- 
dence " did not abate the necessity of his supplications, 
though he made them with a joy which this confidence 
inspired. While his knowledge of the fluctuations of the 
human heart led him to rejoice with trembling, yet the 
continuance of this favored church in the principles into 
which the) had been initiated by his visit to them ten years 
before, gave him a reasonable ground of their persevering 
steadfastness. 

This church afforded an eminent proof not only of its 
attachment to Paul, its founder, but of its zeal for Chris- 
tianity. Not satisfied with advancing the credit of religion, 
and assisting its ministers in their own country, with a 
truly catholic spirit, these Philippian converts repeatedly 
sent money to Paul at Thessalonica, that, by relieving the 
Christians there from the expense which would attend the 
establishment of the Gospel, they might be led to conceive 
a higher idea of the religion itself by the disinterestedness 
of its ministers. This generous superiority to any lucrative 
views, gave Paul a marked advantage over their philo- 
sophical teachers, who bestowed no gratuitous instruction 
The apostle gratefully considers it as one of the practi- 
cal effects of the confirmed piety of his beloved Philippians, 
that they were so liberally kind to himself; he received 
their affectionate services to the aged, afflicted, and now 
imprisoned servant of Jesus Christ, as a proof of their feal- 
ty to his Lord. An ambassador, though in bonds, will still 
be considered as a representative of his king, by every 
liege subject. With what cordiality does he solemnly 
attest the Omniscient to the truth of his attachment to them, 
and his desire to see them! 

Highly, however, as he estimates their religious improve- 
ment, he does not consider them as having attained that 
elevation of character which renders monition superfluous, 



380 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

or advancement unnecessary; for he exhorts even "as 
many as be perfect," that they press forward and reach 
forth unto those things which are before: in his usual 
humble way identifying himself with those he is admonish- 
ing — " Let us be thus minded." 

Again. — " Though he is confident that he that begun a 
good work in them," will accomplish it, yet they must still 
work out their salvation; but lest they might he tempted 
to value themselves on their exertions, they are instantly 
reminded who it is that " worketh in them to will and to 
do." Though they professed the Gospel, " their conversa- 
tion must be such as becometh it." To accomplish his full 
desire, their love, already so great, must " abound more 
and more." Nor would he be satisfied with an ignorant or 
disorderly piety — their love must manifest itself more and 
more "in knowledge and judgment:" in knowledge, by a 
perpetual acquisition; in judgment, by a practical applica- 
tion of that knowledge. 

How little, in the eyes of the sober Christian, does the 
renowned Roman, who, scarcely half a century before, 
sacrificed his life to his appointment, at this very Philippi, 
appear, in comparison of the man who addressed this epis- 
tle to the same city! St. Paul was not less brave than 
Brutus, but his magnanimity was of a higher strain. Paul 
was exercised in a long series of sufferings, from which 
the sword of Brutus, directed by any hand but that of Paul 
himself, would have been a merciful deliverance. Paul, 
too, was a patriot, and set a proper value on his dignity as 
a Roman citizen. He too was a champion for freedom, 
but he fought for that higher species of liberty 

" Unsung by poets, and by senators unpraised." 

Was it courage of the best sort, in the Roman enthusiast 
for freedom, to abandon his country to her evil destiny, 
at the very moment when she most needed his support.'' 
Was it true generosity or patriotism, after having killed 
his friend, to whom he owed his fortune and his life,* 
usurper though he was, voluntarily to leave this adored 
country a prey to inferior usurpers.'' Though Cgesar had 
robbed Rome of her liberty, should Brutus rob her of his 
own guardian virtues ? Why not say to the Romans, as 
Paul did to the Philippians — Though I desire to depart, 
nevertheless to abide in the flesh is more needful for you! 
This would have been indeed patriotism, because it would 
have been disinterested. Was not Paul's the truer hero- 

* At the battle of Pharsalia. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 381 

ism? He also was in a strait between two events, life and 
death. He knew, what Brutus, alas! did not know, "that 
to die was gain;" but, instead of deserting his cause, by a 
pusillanimous self-murder, he submitted to live for its in- 
terest. The gloomy despair of the stoic, and the cheerful 
submission of the saint, present a lively contrast of the ef- 
fects of the two religions on two great souls. 

It is a coincidence too remarkable to be passed over in 
silence, that Paul was directed by " a vision from heaven^' 
to go to Philippi; that Brutus was summoned to the same 
city by his evil genius. The hero obeyed the phantom; the 
apostle was "not disobedient to the heavenly vision;" to 
what different ends, let the concluding histories of the de- 
voted suicide and the devoted martyr declare! Will it be 
too fanciful to add, that the spectre which lured the Roman 
to his own destruction, and the vision which in the same 
place invited the apostle to preach salvation to others, pre- 
sent no unapt emblem of the opposite genius of Paganism 
and Christianity. 



CHAP. XVI. 

St. PauVs respect for constituted authorities. 

The Gospel was never intended to dissolve the ancient 
ties between sovereign and subject, master and servant, pa- 
rent and child, but rather to draw them closer, to strengthen 
a natural by a lawful and moral obligation. As the charge 
of disaffection was, from the first, most injurious to the re 
ligion of Jesus, it is obvious why the apostle was so fre- 
quent, and so earnest, in vindicating it from this calumny. 

It is apparent from every part of the New Testament, 
that our Lord never intended to introduce any change into 
the civil government of Judea, where he preached, nor into 
any part of the world to which his religion might extend. 
As his object was of a nature specifically different, his dis- 
courses were always directed to that other object. His 
politics were uniformly conversant about his own kingdom, 
which was not of this world. If he spake of human gov- 
ernments at all, it was only incidentally, as circumstances 
led to it, and as it gave occasion to display or enforce some 
act of obedience. He discreetly entangled the Pharisees 
in the insidious net which they had spread for him, by d - 



382 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

recting, in answer to their ensnaring question, that tho 
things which belonged even to the sovereign whom they 
detested, should be " rendered" to him. 

St. Paul exhibited at once a striking proof of the sound- 
ness of his own principles, and of the peaceable character 
of Christianity, in his full and explicit exposition of the al- 
legiance due to the ruling powers. His thorough convic- 
tion that human nature was, and would be, the same in all 
ages, led him to anticipate the necessity of impressing on 
his converts the duty of rescuing the new religion, not only 
from present reproach, but from that obloquy to which he 
foresaw that it would always be exposed. 

He knew that a seditious spirit had been alleged against 
his Lord. He knew, that as it was with the master so it 
must be with the servant. One was called a "pestilent 
fellow;" another, " a stirrer-up of the people:" others were 
charged with "turning the world upside down." These 
charges, invented and propagated by the Jews, were greed- 
ily adopted by the persecuting Roman emperors, and their 
venal instruments; and have always been seized on and 
brought forward as specious pretences for exile, proscrip- 
tion, massacre. 

Many of the Protestant Reformers were afterwards ac- 
cused, or suspected, of the same factious disposition; and 
if a similar accusation has not been boldly produced, it has 
been insidiously implied, against some of the most faithful 
friends of the government, and of the ecclesiastical consti- 
tution of our own country; as if a more than ordinary de- 
gree of religious activity rendered their fidelity to the state 
suspicious, and their hostility to the church certain. We 
do not deny, that though Christianity has never been the 
cause, it has often been made the pretence for disaffection. 
Religion has been made the handle of ambition by Popery, 
and of sedition by some of the Puritan Reformers. Cor- 
ruptions in both cases was stamped upon the very face of 
those who so used it. Nothing, however, can be more un- 
fair, than ea°:;erly to charge religious profession with such 
dangers, which yet the instances alluded to have given some 
of our high churchmen a plausible plea for always doing. 
This plea, though in certain cases justly furnished, has 
been most unjustly used by being applied to instances to 
which it is completely inapplicable. 

For the truth is, that a factious spirit is so far from having 
any natural connection with the religion of the Gospel, that 
it stands in the most direct opposition to it. St. Paul, in 
taking particular care to vindicate Christianity from any 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 383 

such aspersion, shows that obedience to constituted author- 
ities is among the express commands of our Saviour. He 
might have added to the strength of his assertion, by adduc- 
ing his example also; for, in order to be enabled to com- 
ply with a law of government, Christ did, what he had 
never done to supply his own necessities — he wrought a 
miracle. 

The apostle knowing the various shifts of men, from their 
natural love of gain, to evade paying imposts, is not content 
with a general exhortation on this head, but urges the duty 
in every conceivable shape, and under every variety of 
name, as if to prevent the possibility of even a verbal sub- 
terfuge — tribute, custom, fear, love, honor , fidelitij in paymenjt ; 
and then, having exhausted particulars, he sums them up 
in a general — owe no man any thing. Thus he leaves not only 
no public opening, but no secret crevice to fiscal fraud.* 

Perhaps it is an evidence, in this instance, rather of the 
sagacious, than of the prescient, spirit which governed St. 
Paul, that there is as much tendency to it now, as when 
the apostle first published his prohibitory letter. The known 
principles of human nature, as we have just observed, might 
lead us to expect it alike in all ages. At the same time, 
we cannot be too mindful of that command of inspiration, 
which, by enjoining us to render to all their dues, has en- 
larged the sphere of civil duty to the very utmost limit of 
human actions. And it is no little credit to Christianity, 
that intimations are so frequently repeated, by all the apos- 
tles to all classes of society, that their having become Chris- 
tians was the very reason why all their lawful obligations 
should be the more scrupulously discharged. 

St. Peter and St. Paul preach the same doctrine, but 
most judiciously apply their injunctions to the different 
modes of government under which their several converts 
lived. St. Peter, who wrote to the strangers scattered through 
Pontus, Asia, &c. where the governments were arbitrary, 
orders them Jii'st to obey the king as supreme. St. Paul, ad- 
dressing the people of Rome, where it is well known the 
emperor and the senate did not always act in concurrence, 
with his usual exquisite prudence makes choice of an am- 
biguous expression, the higher jiowers, without specifically 
determining what those powers were. 

Loyalty is a cheap quality, where a good government 
makes a happy people. It is then an obligation, without 
being a virtue. That every man should be obedient to the 
existing powers, is a very easy injunction to us, who are 

* Romans, xiii. 



384 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

living under the mildest government, and the most virtuous 
king. When Paul enjoined his beloved disciple "to put 
the people in mind to be subject to principalities and pow- 
ers, and to obey magistrates," — had the episcopal Titus 
been acting under the merciful government of the imperial 
Titus, Paul might have been denied any merit in giving 
this authoritative mandate, or the bishop in obeying it: it 
might have been urged, that the injunctions were accom- 
modated to a sovereign whose commands it would be un- 
reasonable to dispute. 

The submission which St. Paul practised and taught was 
a trial of a higher order, but though hard, it was not too 
hard for his principles. To enjoin and to practise implicit 
obedience, where Nero was the supreme authority, furnish- 
ed him with a fair occasion for exhibiting his sincerity on 
this point. Never let it be forgotten for the honor of Chris- 
tianity, and of the apostle who published it, that Paul chose 
to address his precepts of civil obedience to the Christians 
at Rome, under the most tyrannical of all their tyrants. 
He commands them to submit for conscience sake, to a sov- 
ereign, who, — their enemy, Tacitus, gives the relation, — 
made the martyrdom of the Christians his personal diver- 
sion; who burnt them alive by night in the streets, that 
the flames might light him to the scene of his licentious 
pleasures. 

In the first three centuries, till the Roman government 
became Christian, there is not, we believe, an instance 
upon record, of any insurrection against legitimate author- 
ity. Tertullian, in his " Apology," challenges the Pagans 
to produce a single instance of sedition, in which any of 
the Christians had been concerned; though their numbers 
were become so great, as to have made their opposition 
formidable, while the well-known cruel and vengeful prin- 
ciple of their oppressors would have rendered it desperate. 
Even that philosophical politician Montesquieu acknow- 
ledged, that in those countries where Christianity had even 
imperfectly taken root, rebellions have been less frequent 
than in other places. 

Nor did St. Paul indemnify himself for his public submis- 
sion, by privately villifying the lawful tyrant: the emperor 
is not only not named, but is not pointed at. There is not 
one of those sly inuendos, which the artful subverters of 
states know how to employ, when they would undermine 
the stability of law, without incurring its penalty. He be- 
trays no symptom of an exasperating spirit, lurking behind 
the shelter of prudence, and the screen of legal securitv 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 385 

It is observable, that in the very short period, from the 
origin of Christianity under Augustus to the time at which 
St. Paul wrote, there were four successive Roman empe- 
rors, each of whom was worse than the preceding, as if it 
had been providentially so determined, as a test of the meek 
and quiet spirit of Christianity, whose followers never man- 
ifested resistance to any of these oppressive masters. 

Paul knew how to unite a respect for the government, 
with a just abhorrence of the vices of the governor. We 
are not advocating the cause of passive obedience — but it 
may be fairly observed, in this connection, that political 
passions are so apt to inflame the whole mind, that it is 
dangerous for those, who are professionally devoted to the 
service of religion, to be too powerfully influenced by them. 

I believe there has been no government, under which 
Christianity has not been able to subsist. When the 
ruling powers were lenient to it, and especially when they 
afforded it protection, it has advanced in secular prosperity, 
and external grandeur; when they have been intolerant, its 
spirit has received a fresh internal impulse ; it has improved 
in spiritual vigor, as if it had considered oppression only 
as a new scene for calling new graces into exercise. 

With the specific nature of the populace, in all countries, 
Paul was well acquainted. He knew that till religion has 
operated on their hearts, they have but one character. Of 
this character we have many correct, though slight sketches, 
in the New Testament. Now we hear the stupid clamor 
of the Ephesian idolaters, vociferating, for two hours, their 
one * phrase. Then we see that picture of a mob, so ex- 
actly 'alike in all ages, from the uproar in the streets of 
Ephesus, to the riots in the streets of Westminster; " the 
greater part knew not wherefore they were come together." 
On another occasion, " the certainty could not be known 
for the tumult." Then their mutable caprice, changing 
with the impulse of the event, or of the moment. When 
the viper fastened on Paul's hand, "he was a murderer," 
when he shook it off unhurt, " he was a god." | At Lystra 
the same people who had oflercd him divine honors, no 
sooner heard the false reports of the Jews from Antioch, than 
ihey stoned him and dra<j!;ircd him out of Ihc city as a dead 
man.'' "l It was the very spirit which dictated the " Hosan- 
na " of one day, and the " crucify him " of the next. 

St. Paul well knew these wayward motions of the mob. 
He knew also that, without the faculty of thinking, their 
gregarious habit gave them a physical force, which was u 

* Acta xix. t Acts xxviii. j; Acts xv 

17 



386 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

substitute for rational strength; and that this instinctive and 
headlong following the herd, without reason, without con- 
sistency, makes them as formidable by their aggregate num- 
ber, as they are inconsiderable by their individual weight. 
Yet, did he ever attempt to turn the knowledge, in which 
he was so well versed, to a political purpose ? Did he ever 
cajole the multitude, as an engine to lift himself into power 
or popularity ? Did he consider them, as some designing 
orators have done, the lowest round in ambition's ladder, 
by which, its foot fixed in the dirt, they strive to scale the 
summit of public favor; alluring by flattery beings they de- 
spise, and paying them by promises, which they know they 
shall never be able to keep. 

St. Paulas love of order is an additional proof of the 
soundness of his political character. He uses his influence 
with the vulgar, only to lead them to obedience. Nor did 
he content himself with verbal instructions to obey; he 
seconded them by a method the most practically efficient. 
Together with order itself, he enjoined on the people those 
industrious habits which are the very soul of order He 
was a most rigorous punisher of idleness, that powerful 
cherisher of insubordination in the lower orders. Not to eat 
was the penalty he inflicted on those who would not work. 
He commands the Thessalonian converts "to correct the 
disorderly" — again enjoining, that "with quietness they 
work and eat their own bread." " Stirrers up of the peo- 
ple" never command them to work: and though they pro- 
mise them bread, knowing they shall never be able to give it 
to them, yet they do not, like Paul, command them to eat 
it in peace. By thus encouraging peaceable and laborious 
habits, he was at once ensuring the comforts of the people, 
and the security of the state. Are these exhortations, is 
this conduct, any proof of that tendency to faction, which 
has been so often charged on the religion of Jesus ? 

In his political discretion, as well as in all other points, 
Paul imitates his Lord. Jesus, in the earlier part of his 
ministry, was extremely cautious of declaring who he was, 
never but once owned himself to be the Messiah; when at 
last, knowing " that his hour was come," he scrupled not 
to express his resentment publicly against the Sanhedrim, 
by almost the only strong expression of indignation, which 
Infinite Wisdom, clothed in Infinite Meekness, ever thought 
fit to use. Even then, he said nothinir asjainst the civil 
governor. 

But while Paul thus proved himself a firm supporter of 
established authorities, as such, he would not connive at 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 387 

any formal act of injustice; while he resigned himself to the 
Roman powers, his lawful judges, he would not submit to 
be condemned illegally by the Jews. When he appealed 
to Caesar, he declared with a dignified firmness becoming 
his character, that though he refused not to die, he would 
be tried by the rightful judicature. 

If it be objected, that, in a single instance, he sharply 
rebuked Ananias for violating the law, by commanding him 
to be punished unjustly; he immediately cleared himself 
from the charge of contumacy, by declaring " he knew 
not that it was the High Priest; " and instantly took occa^ 
sion to extract a maxim of obedience from his own error; 
and to render it more impressive sanctioned it by scriptural 
authority, ''It is written, th ou shalt not speak evil of the rulej 
of thy people."* 

It must have been obvious to his Pagan judges, that he 
never interfered with their rights, or even animadverted on 
their corruptions. His real crime in their eyes, was, not 
his intermeddling with government, but his converting the 
people. It was by exposing the impositions of their merce- 
nary priests, by declaring theiy^ idols ought not to be worship- 
ped, that he inflamed the magistrates; and they were irritat- 
ed, not so much as civil governors, as guardians of their 
religion. He knew the consequences of his persevering 
fidelity, and like a true servant of the true God, never shrunk 
from them. 

To complete the character of his respect to authorities, 
he sanctifies loyalty, by connecting it with piety. He 
expressly exhorts the new bishop of the Ephesians,'f that 
throughout his Episcopal jurisdiction, " prayers, interces- 
sion, and giving of thanks be made for kings and all in 
authority; " — and adds, as a natural consequence of the 
obligation, arising from the reciprocal connection, "that 
subjects may lead a quiet and peaceable life, in all godli- 
ness and honesty." There could not have been devised a 
more probable method of insuring allegiance; for would it 
not be preposterous to injure or vilify those, for whom we 
make it a conscience to pray.'' 

Yet even this important duty may be over-estimated, 
when men's submission to kings is considered as paramount 
to their duty to " another king, one Jesus." \\\ instance 
of this we have seen exemplified in our own time, though 
it has pleased Almighty Goodness to overrule it to the hap- 
piest results. And anr^ng the triumphs of religion which 
we have witnessed, it is not the least considerable, that. 

* Acts, ch. xxiii. t Timothy 



388 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

whereas Christianity was originally charged with a design 
to overturn states and empires, ive have seen the crime com- 
pletely turned over to the accusers; tve have seen the avowed 
adversaries of Christ become the strenuous subverters of 
order, law, and government. 

To name only one of the confederated band: — Voltaire 
had reached the pinnacle of literary fame and general ad- 
miration, not, it is to be hoped, /or his impiety, but in spite 
of it. The fearful consequences of his audacious blasphe- 
mies were hid behind those graces of style, that gay wit, 
those fascinating pleasantries, that sharp, yet bitter raillery, 
which, if they did not conceal the turpitude, decorated it, 
and obtained, for his profaneness, something more than 
pardon. His boldness increased with his impunity. He 
carried it with a high hand, against the whole scheme of 
revelation; substituting ridicule for argument, and assertion 
for fact; and then, reasoning from his own misrepresenta- 
tions, as consequentially as if he had found the circumstan 
ces he invented. 

But the missile arrows of his lighter pieces, barbed, point- 
ed, and envenomed, (the exact characters of that slender 
weapon) proved the most destructive in his warfare upon 
Christianity ; and he could replenish his exhaustless quiver, 
with the same unparalleled celerity with which he emptied 
it. The keen sagacity of his mind taught him, that witty 
wickedness is of all the most successful. Argumentative 
impiety hurts but few, and generally those who were hurt 
before. Besides it requires in the reader a talent, or at 
least a taste, congenial with the writer; in this idle age it 
requires also the rare quality of patient investigation; a 
quality not to be generally expected, when our reading has 
become almost as dissipated as our pleasures, and as frivo- 
lous as our conversation. 

For though Voltaire contrived to make every department 
of literature the medium of corruption; though the most un- 
promising and least suspected vehicles were pressed into 
the service to assist his ruling purpose ; yet historical false- 
hoods might be refuted by adverting to purer sources, un- 
fair citations might be contradicted, by referring to the 
originals. The popular engine of mischief is not the art 
of reasoning, but the art of raillery. The danger lies not 
in the attempt to prove a thing to be false, so much as in 
the talent which aims to make what is true, ridiculous; not 
so much in attacking, as in mistating, not in inverting, but 
in discoloring. 

Metaphysical mischief is tedious to the trifling, and dull 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 389 

to the lively. Who now reads the " Leviathan ?" Who 
has not read Candide.'' "Political Justice," a more recent 
work, subversive of all religious and social order, was too 
ponderous to be popular, and too dry to answer the end of 
general corruption. But when the substance, by that che- 
mical process well known to the preparers of poison, was 
rubbed down into an amusing novel, then it began to ope- 
rate; the vehicle, though made pleasant, did not lessen the 
deleterious quality. 

In Voltaire, a sentiment that cut up hope by the roots 
was compressed into a phrase as short as the motto of a 
ring, and as sparkling as the brilliants which encompass it. 
Every one can repeat an epigram, and even they who can- 
not understand, can circulate it. The fashionable laughed 
before they had time to think; the dread of not being sup- 
posed to have read, what all were reading, stimulated 
those who read, in order that they might talk. Little wits 
came to sharpen their weapons at the forge of this Philis- 
tine, or to steal small arms from his arsenal. 

The writer of these pages has not forgotten the time when 
it was a sort of modish competition who could first produce 
proof that they had received the newest pamphlet from 
Ferney, by quoting from it; and they were gratified to find 
that the attril3utes of intelligence and good taste were ap- 
pended to their gay studies. Others indulged with a sort 
of fearful delight, in the perilous pleasure. Even those 
who could not read, without indignation, did not wait, 
without impatience. Each successive work, like the book 
in the Apocalypse, was "so sweet in the mouth," that they 
forgot to anticipate the bitterness of the digestion. Or, to 
borrow a more awful illustration from the same divine 
source, "A star fell from heaven on the waters, burning 
like a lamp, and the star was called Wormwood; and 
many died of the waters, because they were made bitter." 
That bright genius, which might have illuminated the 
world, became a destructive flame, and, like the burning 
brand thrown by the Roman soldier into the temple of 
Jerusalem, carried conflagration into the sanctuary. 

At length, happily for rescuing the principles, but most 
injuriously for the peace and safety of society, the polished 
courtier became a furious anarchist. The idol of monarchi- 
cal France, the equalized associate of the royal author 
of Berlin, changed his political note; the parasite of prin- 
ces, and the despot of literature, sounded the trumpet of 
Jacobinism. The political and moral world shook to their 
foundation. Earth below trembled. Heaven above threat- 



390 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

ened All was insecurity. Order seemed reverting to 
original chaos. The alarm was given. Britain first awoke, 
roused by the warning voice of Burke. Enthusiasm was 
converted into detestation. The horror which ought to 
have been excited by his impiety was reserved for his de- 
mocracy. But it was found that he could not subvert 
thrones with the same impunity with which he had labored 
to demolish altars. He gave, indeed, the same impulse to 
sedition, which he had long given to infidelity, and by his 
own activity increased the velocity of both. The public 
feeling was all alive, and his political principles justly 
brought on his name that reprobation which had been long 
due to his blasphemies, but which his blasphemies had 
failed to excite. 

Divine Providence seems to have spared him to extreme 
old age, that by adding one crime more to his long cata- 
logue, his political outrages might counteract his moral 
mischiefs. But his wisdom seems to have been equally 
short-sighted in both his projects. While the consequen- 
ces of his designs against the governments of the world, 
probably outran his intentions, his scheme for the extinc- 
tion of Christianity, and for the obliteration of the very 
name of its author, fell short of it. Peace, law, and order 
are restored to the desolated nations. Kings are reinstat- 
ed on their rightful thrones, and many of the subjects of 
the King of kings, it is hoped, are returned to their alle- 
giance. 

The abilities of this powerful but pernicious genius, were 
not more extraordinary than their headlong, yet diversified 
course. His talents took their bent from the turn of the 
age in which he was cast. His genius was his own, but 
its determination was given from without. He gave im- 
pressions as forcibly, as he yielded to them suddenly. It 
was action and reaction. He lighted on the period, in 
which, of all others, he was born to produce the most pow- 
erful sensation. The public temper was agitated; he 
helped on the crisis. Revolt was ripening; he matured it. 
Circumstances suggested his theories; his theories influ- 
enced circumstances. He was inebriated with flattery, 
and mad with success; but his delirious vanity defeated its 
own ends; in his greediness for instant adoration he neg- 
lected to take future fame into his bold but brief account; — 

" Vaulting ambition overleap'd itself. 
And fell on t'other side." 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 391 

CHAP. XVII. 

St. PauVs oMe7itio7i to Inferior Concerns. 

It is one great advantage of epistolary writing, that it is 
not subject to the general laws of composition, but admits 
of every diversity of miscellaneous matter. Topics which 
might be thought beneath the dignity of a treatise, or in- 
consistent with the solemnity of a sermon, or the gravity 
of a dissertation, find their proper place in a letter. De- 
tails which are not of the first importance, may yet be of 
such a nature as to require notice or animadversion. 

The epistolary form has also other advantages; it not 
only admits of a variety of subjects, but of the most abrupt 
transition, from one subject to another, however dissimilar. 
It requires not the connecting links of argumentative com- 
position, nor the regularity of historical, nor the uniformity 
of ethical; nor the method and arrangement of each and 
of all these. The free mind, unfettered by critical rules, 
expatiates at will, soars or sinks, skims or dives, as the 
objects of its attention may be elevated or depressed, pro- 
found or superficial. 

Of the character of this species of writing, the authors 
of epistles of the New Testament have most judiciously 
availed themselves. St. Paul, especially, has taken all due 
advantage of the latitude it allows. His epistles, though 
they contain the most profound reasoning, and on the most 
important subjects on which the mind of man can be en- 
gaged, are not, exclusively, regular discussions of any set 
topics; though they breathe strains of devotion almost an- 
gelic, yet do they also frequently stoop to the concerns of 
ordinary life: partaking, as occasion requires, of all that 
familiarity, versatility, and ease, which this species of 
writing authorizes. Yet though occasional topics and inci- 
dental circumstances are introduced, each epistle has some 
particular drift, tends to some determined point, and, 
amidst frequent digressions, still maintains a consistency 
with itself, as well as with the general tendency of Scrip- 
ture ; the method being sometimes concealed, and the chain 
of argument not obvious, the closest attention is required, 
and the reader, while he may be gathering much solid 
instruction, reproof or consolation, from scattered senten- 
ces, and independent axioms, will not, without much appli- 
cation of mind, embrace the general argument. 



392 ESSAY ON ST PAUL. 

Amidst, however, all the higher parts of spiritual instruc- 
tion; amidst all the solidity of deep practical admonition, 
there is not, perhaps, a single instance in which this au- 
thor has omitted to inculcate any one of the little morals, 
any one even of what may be called those minor circum- 
stances, which constitute the decorums and decencies of 
life. Nor does his zeal for promoting the greatest actions, 
ever make him unmindful of the grace, the propriety, the 
manner in which they are to be performed. 

It is one of the characteristic properties of a great mind 
that it can, " contract as well as dilate itself;" and we have 
it from one of the highest human authorities, that the mind 
which cannot do both is not great in its full extent.* The 
minuter shades of character do not of themselves make up 
a valuable person; they may be possessed in perfection, 
separate from great excellence. But as that would be a 
feeble mind, which should be composed of inferior quali- 
ties only, so that would be an imperfect one, in which they 
were wanting. To all the strong lines of character, St. 
Paul added the lighter touches, the graceful filling up 
which finish the portrait. 

In a character which forcibly exhibits all the great fea- 
tures of Christianity, these subordinate properties do not 
only make up its completeness, they give also an additional 
evidence of the truth and perfection of a religion which 
makes such a provision for virtue, as to determine that 
nothing which is right, however inconsiderable, can be 
indifferent. The attention to inferior duties is a symptom 
of a mind not satisfied with its attainments, not so full of 
itself, as to fancy that it can afford to be negligent; it is 
indicative of a mind humble enough to be watchful, be- 
cause it is suspicious of itself; of a conscience ever on its 
guard, that its infirmities may not grow into vices, nor its 
occasional neglects into allowed omissions. But it is chief- 
ly anxious, that its imperfections may not be brought as 
a charge against religion itself; for may not its enemies 
say, if he is neglectful of small and easy duties, which cost 
little, is it probable that he will be at much pains about 
such as are laborious and difficult.'' St. Paul never leaves 
an opening for this censure. He always seems to have 
thought small avenues worth guarding, small kindnesses 
worth performing, small negligences worth avoiding: and 
his constant practical creed is, that nothing that is a sin is 
small; that nothing that is right is insignificant. But St. 
Paul was an accurate master of moral proportion. He took 

* Lord Bacon. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 393 

an exact measure of the positive and relative value of 
things. If he did not treat small objects as great ones — if 
he did not lift proprieties into principles, he by no means 
overlooked them; he never wholly neglected them. He 
graduated the whole scale of doctrine, and of action, of 
business and of opinion, assigning to every thing its place 
according to its worth. 

Though he did not think the dissension in religious opin- 
ions between two individuals, Euodias and Syntyche* of 
as much importance as the contentions and schisms in the 
church of the Corinthians, yet he thought it of sufficient 
importance to be healed; and anxiously desired to reconcile 
them, to "make them of one mind in the Lord." He 
knew that disunion is not only unfavorable to the piety of 
the persons at variance, but that, while it gratifies the ene- 
mies, it injures the cause of religion. 

But if he gives their due importance to inferior, though 
necessary duties, he draws a still nicer line in regard to 
matters in themselves indifferent. The eaters of herbs and 
the eaters of flesh are alike, in his estimation, as to the act; 
but when the indulgence in the latter becomes a temptation 
to an undecided believer, then, even this trifling concession 
was no longer a matter of indifference. It became then a 
just ground for the exercise of self-denial, which perhaps 
he was not sorry to have the opportunity of enforcing. 

He knew that there were persons who profess to have 
made a great proficiency in piety, who are not defective in 
point of cheap attainment, but are defective in the more 
difficult attainments which involve self-denial ; persons who, 
though very spiritual in their conversation, are somewhat 
selfish in their habits; who talk much of faith, and yet de- 
cline the smallest sacrifice of ease; who profess to do all 
for Christ, but do little for his poor members. He wished 
to see a high profession always accompanied with a corres- 
ponding practice. The Israelites, who were so forward to 
exclaim, "all that the Lord hath commanded us we will 
do," went and made them a golden calf. 

In the mind of our apostle, all is consistent. He that 
said, "Let the same mind be in you which was in Christ 
Jesus," said also, Id all ihino-s be done decently andin order. 
Right things must be done in a right manner. This sim- 
ple precept indicates the soberness of Paul's mind. An 
enthusiast has seldom much dislike to disorderly conduct; 
on the contrary, he has generally a sovereign contempt for 
small points, indeed for every thing which doc= not cxclu- 

^- Pliilipjiians, cli. iy 



394 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

sively tend to advance the one object, whatever that may 
be, which is nearest his heart. 

St. Paul sometimes appends small objects to great ones, 
thus increasing their importance by their position. Imme- 
diately after giving his exquisite portrait of charity,* he 
goes at once to recommend and enforce, by powerful illus- 
trations, certain proprieties of behavior in the public con- 
gregations. Knowing the readiness of the world to catch 
at the slightest irregularity in religious professors, he puts 
them on their guard " not to let their good be evil spoken 
of;" but wishes that they might acquit themselves unex- 
ceptionably as to manner, in things which were already 
right as to the matter. 

From the high duties of episcopal dignity, he stoops 
to the concerns of individuals of the most degraded con- 
dition. From the most important points of moral action 
in women, he descends to the very minutiae of their appa- 
rel. This indicates how well aware he was, that every 
appearance of impropriety in personal adornment, is an 
implication of a wrong state of mind. If this seemingly 
inferior concern was not judged to be beneath the notice 
of an inspired apostle, surely it ought not to be unworthy 
the regard of my fair countrywomen. 

One might have suspected, in the case of Paul, that the 
heavy load of cares, and sorrows, and persecutions; with 
the addition of ecclesiastical affairs, the most extensive 
and the most complicated, might have excused him from 
attending minutely to an object so inconsiderable, as the 
concerns of a poor runaway slave, " the son of his bonds." 

Yet this once guilty, but now penitent servant, he con- 
descends to make the exclusive subject of a letter to his 
late master. I This application to Philemon, in behalf of 
Onesimus, is a model in its kind; sincere, polite, tenderly 
affectionate to the convicted offender; strong, yet respect- 
fully kind to his friend. In point of elegance and deli- 
cacy, in every excellence of composition, it may vie with 
any epistle of antiquity; and is certainly far superior, in 
ingenuity, feeling, warmth, and argument, to the admired 
letter of Pliny, in recommendation of his friend Arrianus 
Maturius. 

There are people who sometimes forgive the piety of a 
man, in consideration of his influence, his reputation, his 
talents, or some other agreeable quality connected with it. 
Genius is accepted by the world as a sort of atonement 
for religion J and wit has been known to obtain the forgive- 

* 1 Corinthians, ch. xiii, and xiv. f Epistle to Philemon. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 395 

ness of the gay, for the strict principles of the grave. 
Here is a striking instance of two persons, connected by 
the closest ties of Christian friendship, who acted on other 
grounds. Philemon was not ashamed of his pious friend 
Paul, though a prisoner; nor was Paul ashamed of Onesi- 
mus, though a servant. 

In urging his request on his friend, the apostle does not 
adopt the corrupt practice of too many, who, in order to 
put the person addressed in good humor, preface their 
petition by flattering him on some point, where, perhaps, 
he least deserves it. Paul, notwithstanding he would have 
reprobated such insincerity, yet thought it fair to remind 
Philemon of his high principles; thus indirectly to furnish 
him with a standard to which he expected his friend would 
act up. 

He then proceeds to press his suit, with all the variety 
of argument and persuasion of which he was so great a 
master. His earnestness of entreaty, for so inconsiderable 
an object, conveys a lesson to ministers and to heads of 
families, that there is no human being so low as to be be- 
neath their kindness; no offender so great as to be beyond 
their hope. 

He had opened his request with a motive the most cal- 
culated to touch the heart of a Christian friend — that he 
always made mention of him in his prayer's. This tender 
plea he follows up with the affectionate commendation of 
his Christian virtue, that the friend he was beseeching 
abounded in love and faith, not only '' to the Lord Jesus, 
hut to all saints." 

After this soothing address, he urges his claims to the 
boon he was about to ask; in doing which, though he had 
been always mindful of the dignity of his apostleship, he 
chose rather to sink this consideration in the more tender 
pleas of affection to his friend, and the distressed state of 
the person for whom he petitioned. "Paul the aged, and 
a prisoner of Jesus Christ," were touching and powerful 
motives: but what was likely to penetrate a generous mind, 
was, that the aged and imprisoned Paul, in sending back 
the penitent servant to his own master, and depriving him- 
self of his attendance, was at once performing an act of 
justice and of self-denial. He would not detain him from 
his rightful owner, though he was so great a comfort to 
himself in his forlorn confinement. It was also a fine 
occasion of pressing on Onesimus, that the return to his 
duty would be the surest evidence of his conversion. 

Thus anxiously, for an offending sljive, does he seek to 



396 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

touch every spring of pity in the heart of his friend. Who 
would imagine that the man, who thus labors the cause of 
so obscure an individual, had the superintendence of all 
the Christian churches in the world? 

But, with Paul, rectitude is always the prevailing prin- 
ciple. His zeal for his convert never makes him lose sight 
of the duty of restitution. Destitute, and a prisoner him- 
self, he offers to make good the loss which Philemon might 
have sustained by his servant's misconduct. He candidly 
reminds him, hov/ever, how much the spiritual obligations 
of Philemon (his convert also) exceeded in value the debt 
due to him from Onesimus; though he refuses to avail 
himself of the plea. Thy servant perhaps owes thee a 
paltry sum of money — ihou oxvest me thine own self. 

With his characteristic disinterestedness, he not only 
thus pathetically pleads for him who was to receive the 
good, but for him who was to do it; as if he had said — 
Give me ground to rejoice in this evidence of thy Christian 
benevolence. He farther stimulates him to this act of 
charity, by declaring the confidence he had in his obedience; 
thus encouraging him to the duty, by intimating the cer- 
tainty of his compliance. An additional lesson is given 
to religious professors, not only that their being Christians 
includes their being charitable, but that no act of charity 
should infringe on the rights of justice. 

We conclude, by remarking on the union of judgment 
and kindness in St. Paul's conduct respecting Onesimus. 
He sends him back to Philemon at Colosse, as a proof, 
on the part of Onesimus, of penitent humility, and, on the 
part of Paul, of impartial equity. At the same time, he 
more than takes away his disgrace, by honoring him with 
the office, in conjunction with Tychicus, of being the 
bearer of his public epistle to the Colossian church. He 
confers on him the farther honor of naming him, in the 
body of his epistle, as a faithful and beloved brother. 

How different is this modest and rational report by an 
inspired apostle, of a penitent criminal, a convert of his 
own; one who had survived his crimes long enough to 
prove the sincerity of his repentance by the reformation 
of his life; — how different is this sober narrative by a 
writer who considered restitution as a part of repentance, 
and humility as an evidence of faith, from those two san- 
guine reports which are now so frequently issuing from the 
press, of criminals brought to execution for violating all 
the laws of God and man ! 

The Gospel presents us but with one such instance; an 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 397 

instance which is too often pressed into a service where 
it has nothing to do; yet we far more frequently see the 
example of the penitent thief on the cross, brought for- 
ward as an encouragement to those who have been noto- 
rious offenders, than that of Onesimus; though the latter 
is of general application, and the former is inapplicable 
to criminals in a Christian country; for the dying malefac- 
tor embraced Christianity the moment it was presented to 
him. This solitary instance, however, no more offers a 
justification than an example of fanatical fervors; for if 
it exhibits a lively faith, it exhibits also deep penitence, 
humility, and self-condemnation. Nor does the just confi- 
dence of the expiring criminal in the Redeemer's power, 
swell him into that bloated assurance, of which we hear 
in some late converts. 

For in the tracts to which we allude, we hear not only 
of one, but of many, holy highwaymen, triumphant male- 
factors, joyful murderers! True, indeed, it is, that good 
men on earth rejoice with the angels in heaven, over even 
one sinner that repenteth. We would hope many of these 
were penitents; but as there v/as no space granted, as in 
the case of Onesimus, to prove their sincerity, we should 
be glad to see, in these statements, more contrition and' 
less rapture. May not young delinquents be encouraged 
to go on from crime to crime, feeling themselves secure 
of heaven at last, when they see, from this incautious 
charity, that assurance of acceptance, which is so fre- 
quently withheld from the close of a life of persevering 
holiness, granted to the most hardened perpetrators of the 
most atrocious crime.'' 

As it has been observed, that the baskets of the hawkers 
have this year abounded in these dangerous, though doubt- 
less well-meant tracts, may not the lower class in general, 
and our servants in particular, be encouraged to look for 
a happy termination of life, not so much to the dying bed 
of the exemplary Christian, as to the annals of the gal- 
lows? A few exceptions might be mentioned, honorable 
to the prudence, as well as to the piety, of the writers of 
some of these little narratives. 



398 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

CHAP. XVIII. 

St. Paul on the Resurrection. 

Before the introduction of Christianity, so dark were 
the notices of a state beyond the grave, that it is no won- 
der if men were little inclined to give up the pleasures and 
interest of one world, of which they were in actual pos- 
session, for the possibility of another, doubtful at best, 
and too indistinct for hope, too uncertain for comfort. 

If a state of future happiness was believed, or rather 
guessed at, by a few of those who had not the hght of 
revelation, no nation on earth believed it, no public reli- 
gion in the world taught it. This single truth, then, firm- 
ly established, not only by the preaching of Jesus, but by 
his actual resurrection from the dead, produced a total 
revolution in the condition of man. It gave a new impulse 
to his conduct; infused a new vitality into his existence. 
Faith became to man an anchor of the soul, sure and 
steadfast. This anchorage enables him to ride out the 
blackest storms; and though he must still work out his 
passage, the haven is near, and the deliverance certain, 
" while he keeps his eye to the star, and his hand to the 
stern." 

The value and importance, then, of this doctrine, seems 
to have made it an especial object of divine care. Found- 
ed on the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, per- 
haps it may have afforded one reason, why the long-suffer- 
ing of God permitted Jerusalem to stand near half a cen- 
tury after this last event had taken place. By this delay, 
not only the inhabitants of that city, but the multitudes 
who annually resorted thither, could gain full leisure to 
examine into its truth. Had the destruction followed im- 
mediately upon the crime which caused it, occasion might 
have been furnished to the Rabbles for asserting, that a 
truth could not now be authenticated, which was buried in 
the ruins of the city. Nor would the enemies of Jesus 
have scrupled any subornation to discredit his preten- 
sions, even though at the expense of a doctrine, which in 
volved the happiness of worlds unborn. 

Jerusalem, however, survived for a time, and the doc- 
trine of a resurrection was established for ever. And now, 
had it been a doctrine of any ordinary import, as St. Paul 
was not writing to persons ignorant of the truths of Chris- 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 399 

tianity, but to Christian converts, it might have been less 
his object to propound it dogmatically, than to develope 
and expand it; being a thing previously known, acknow- 
ledged, and received. In writing a letter, when we allude 
to facts already notorious, we do not think our notices the 
less acceptable, because we do not repeat intelligence 
already popular; while we content ourselves with drawing 
inferences from it, making observations upon it, or allusions 
to it. The reader, having in view the same object with the 
writer, would catch at intimations, seize on allusions, and 
fill up the implied meaning. 

Such, however, was not St. Paul's conduct with respect 
to this doctrine. There were indeed, it should seem, 
among his converts, many skeptical Jews, infected with 
the philosophising spirit of the Grecian schools, and who 
doubted, what these last derided, the resurrection of the 
dead. Consequently, upon every account, St. Paul is 
found to give it a peculiar prominence, and on all occa- 
sions to bestow upon it more argument and illustration, 
than on most other tenets of the new faith. 

There is no profession, no class of men, whether Jew or 
Gentile, before whom Paul was not ready to be examined 
on this subject, and was not prompt to give the most decid- 
ed testimony. Uniformly he felt the strength of evidence 
on his side;' uniformly he appealed to the resurrection of 
Jesus Christ, as a fact established on the most solid basis, 
—a fact, not first propagated in distant countries, wliere 
the facility of imposition would have been greater; not at 
a distant period of time, when the same objection against 
it might have been made ; but on the very spot where it 
occurred, at the very moment of its occurrence. 

In his writings, also, the same confidence, the same 
urgency appears. He always adverts to this tenet, as to 
the main hinge on which the whole of Christianity turns. 
The more reasoning oppugners of the faith thought, that if 
this doctrine could be got rid of, cither by argument or 
ridicule, it would subvert the whole fabric of Christianity. 
It was, in reality, the only sensible proof that could be ad- 
duced of the immortality of the soul; an opinion which, 
indeed, many of them professed to entertain, though they 
would not be indebted to this doctrine for its proof. The 
more, however, they oppugned, the more he withstood; 
and of so high importance did he represent it, that he even 
makes "believing in the heart that God hath raised Jesus 
from the dead," to be a principal condition of salvation. 
We must not judge of the inspired St. Paul, an apostle 



400 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

of Jesus Christ, by the same canons of criticism, by which 
we. pronounce judgment on other writers. Notwithstand- 
ing the elevation of his genius, his hand was in a great 
measure held, by the nature of his subject and of his cha- 
racter, from the display of his talents as an author. From 
the warmth of his feelings, and the energy of his mind, we 
infer, that he possessed an imagination peculiarly bright. 
That he subdued, instead of indulging, this faculty, adds 
worth to his character, dignity to his writing, and confirma- 
tion to the truth. To suppress the exercise of a powerful 
imagination, is one sacrifice more, which a pious writer 
makes to God. Independently of that inspiration which 
guided him, his severe judgment would show him, that the 
topics of which he treated were of too high and holy a 
nature to admit the indulgence of a faculty rather calculat- 
ed to excite admiration than to convey instruction. 

In considering his general style of composition, we are 
not to look after the choice of words, so much as to the 
mind, and spirit, and character of the writer. If, however, 
we venture to select any one part of St. Paul's writings, to 
serve as an exception to this remark, and to exhibit a more 
splendid combination of excellences, than almost any other 
in his whole works, we should adduce the fifteenth chapter 
of the first Epistle to the Corinthians, in which he fully 
propounds the article in question. As our Lord's discourse, 
in the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew, is the only explicit 
description of the last judgment; and St. John's vision, at 
the close of the Apocalypse, the only distinct view given us 
of the heavenly glory; so this is the only graphical represen- 
tation which Scripture has presented to us of this most impor- 
tant and consolatory doctrine, the resurrection of the dead. 

The subject of this fifteenth chapter is quite distinct 
from that which precedes or follows it; it is interposed 
between matter quite irrelevant to it, forming a complete 
episode. As a composition, it stands unrivalled for the 
unspeakable importance of its matter, its deep reasoning, 
and lofty imagery. St. Paul sometimes leaves it to others 
to beat out his massy thoughts into all the expansion of 
which they are so susceptible. His eloquence, indeed, 
usually consists more in the grandeur of the sentiment 
than in the splendor of the language. Here both are 
equally conspicuous. Here his genius breaks out in its 
full force: here his mind lights upon a subject which calls 
out all its powers; and the subject finds a writer worthy of 
itself It furnishes a succession of almost every object 
that is grand in the visible and the invisible world A 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 401 

description becomes a picture; and expostulation assumes 
the regularity of a syllogism; an idea takes the form of 
an image; the writer seems to be the spectator; the relator 
speaks as one admitted within the veil. 

According to his usual practice of appealing to facts, as 
a substratum on which to build his reasoning, he produces 
a regular statement, in their order of succession, of the 
different times at which Jesus appeared after his death, 
authenticated by the unimpeachable evidence of the dis- 
ciples themselves, by whom he was seen individually, as 
well as in great bodies. The evidence he corroborates by 
his own personal testimony at his conversion; an evidence 
which he produces with sentiments of the deepest self- 
abasement. 

So important, he proceeds, was it to settle the belief of 
^his doctrine, that, if it were not true, all their hopes fell 
to the ground. To insist on this grand peculiarity of the 
Gospel, was establishing the truth of the whole by a part. 
It was the consummation of the validity of the mission of 
Christ. Without this finishing circumstance, what proof 
could his followers adduce, that his atonement was accept- 
ed; that his mediation was ascertained; that his interces- 
sion would be available; that his final judgment would take 
place; that because He was risen, they should rise also! 
It was not one thing, it was every thing. It was putting 
the seal to a testament, which, without it, would not have 
been authentic. It involved a whole train of the most 
awful consequences. Such a chain of inferences would be 
destroyed by this broken link, as nothing could repair. In 
short, it amounted to this tremendous conclusion: "Those 
who have fallen asleep in Christ have perished." You 
who live in the hope of the redemption wrought for you, 
"are yet in your sins." If Jesus remains under the power 
of death, how shall we be delivered from the power of sin.'' 
If the doctrine be false, then is my preaching a delusion, 
and your faith a nullity. He adds, that they who were 
now the happiest of men, in their assured hope of eternal 
life, would become, "of all men most miserable;" in short, 
as in another place he asks, to what purpose has Christ 
died for our sins, if he has not "risen for our justification?" 

The apostle having shown himself a consummate master 
of the art of reasoning, by his refutation of the absurdities 
that would follow an assumption, tliat Christ was not risen; 
and having cleared the ground from most of the objections 
and difficulties which had been thrown in his way, proceeds 
to the positive assertion, that not only Christ is risen, but 



402 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

that all his faithful followers have their own resurrection as- 
certained by his. He illustrates this truth by an apposite 
allusion to the custom of a Jewish harvest, the whole of 
which was sanctified by the consecration of the first-fruits. 
In his distinguishing characteristics of the different 
properties of the body of man, in its different states of ex- 
istence, every antithesis is exact. The body that is sown 
in corruption, dishonor, and weakness, is raised in incor- 
ruption, glory, and power. The material body is become 
spiritual. '* The first man was made a living soul," pos- 
sessing that natural life communicated by him to all his 
posterity; but Christ was a quickening spirit, through 
whom, as from its source, spiritual life is conveyed to all 
believers. 

If Paul uniformly makes every doctrine a fountain flow- 
ing with practical uses, it is no wonder that he should make 
this triumphant consummation of all doctrine subservient 
to the great ends of holiness. For it is worthy of remark, 
that in this very place, with all the interest which his ar- 
gument excites, in all the heat which his defence kindles, 
carried away, as he seems to be, by his faith and his feel- 
ings, — yet, in his usual manner, he checks his career to 
introduce moral maxims, to insinuate holy cautions. Not 
contented to guard the people against the danger of cor- 
rupt and corrupting society upon his own principles, he 
strengthens his argument by referring them to a Pagan 
poet, whose authority, with some at least, he might think 
would be more respected than his own, on the infection of 
" evil communications." He suggests ironically, as a 
practical effect of the disbelief of this truth, the propriety 
of epicurean voluptuousness, and even ventures to recom- 
mend the utmost indulgence of a present enjoyment, upon 
the supposition of a death which is to cut off* all future 
hope, and all posthumous responsibility. 

Then assuming a loftier note, with an awfully warning 
voice, he proceeds to this solemn adjuration — " Awake to 
righteousness, and sin not; for some have not the know- 
ledge of God." As if he had said, — If you give into this 
incredulity, your practice will become consonant to your 
belief Every man will defend his error when it favors his 
vice. Your evil habits will complete the corruption of 
your faith. If you find an interest in indulging your mis- 
take, your next step will be to think it true. What is first a 
wish, will gradually become an opinion; an opinion will as 
naturally become a ground of action ; and what you now per- 
mit yourself to do, you will soon become willing, to justify. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 



403 



He produces, as the strongest proof of his belief in the 
doctrine in question, the complacency of Christians in suf- 
fering. Why did others press forward to martyrdom? — 
Why did he himself expose his life to perpetual peril? 
Why, but from the firm persuasion, that as Christ was risen, 
they should rise also. Would not their voluntary trials be 
absurd? Would it not be madness to embrace, when it 
was in their power to avoid, all the hardships which imbit- 
tered life, all the dangers which were likely to shorten it. 
He and his colleagues were not impassable substances, but 
feeling men, sensible to pain, keenly aUve to suffering, 
with nerves as finely strung, with bodies as tenderly con- 
stituted, with souls as reluctant to misery, as others. Take 
away this grand motive for patience, rob them of this sus- 
taining confidence, strip them of this glorious prospect, and 
their zeal would lose its character of virtue, their piety its 
claim to wisdom. Their perseverance would be fatuity. 
Mighty then must be their motive, powerful indeed their as- 
surance, clear and strong their conviction, that their brief 
sorrows were not worthy to be compared with the glories 
which were insured to them by the resurrection of Christ. 

Again, he resumes the task of repelling the more plau- 
sible'' objections. But it is not our business to follow him 
through all his variety of illustration, all his diversified 
analogy, all his consecutive reasoning on the nature of the 
resurrection of the body. Resemblances the most distant, 
substances the most seemingly dissimilar in themselves, are 
yet brought together by a skill the most consummate, by 
an aptness the most convincing. All the objects of our 
senses, whatever is familiar to the sight, or habitual to the 
mind, are put in requisition — all the analogies of nature 
are ransacked— the vegetable, the animal, the terrestrial 
and the celestial world, are brought into comparison; and 
the whole is made to demonstrate the truth of this awful 
doctrine. Such a cluster of images, all bearing upon one 
point, at once fill the mind, dilate the conception, and con 
firm the faith. 

There is singular wisdom in the selection of these illus- 
trations, not only as being the most apposite, but the most 
intelligible. — They are not drawn from things abstruse or 
recondite, but from objects with which all classes arc equal- 
ly acquainted. An incidental, but not unimportant proof 
of the universal design of Christianity. The most ordinary 
man is as conversant with the springing up and growth of 
corn, with the distinction between the flesh of the difl^^rent 
animal species, as the philosopher. He can also as clearly 



404 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

discern the exterior distinction between the different lumi- 
naries of heaven, as the astronomer. Here is no demand 
of knowledge, no appeal to science. Sight is the witness, 
sense the arbiter in this question. 

To bestow immortality on mortals, and to revive the 
dead, had been pronounced by a heathen author to be be- 
yond the reach of divine power. To this bold Pyrrhonist 
therefore, who might be among the Corinthians, and who 
sought to perplex the argument by asking — "how are the 
dead raised up? — With what body do they come?" he 
answers peremptorily, by referring them to the great re- 
solver of difficulties — the power of god, inscribed in the 
book of daily experience — God giveth it a body as it hath 
pleased him. He reminds them, that this divine power they 
perpetually saw exercised in a wonderful manner in the 
revolution of seasons in the resuscitation of plants apparent- 
ly dead; and in the springing up of corn, which dies first, 
in order that it may live. To that Omnipotence which 
could accomplish the one, could the other be difficult? 

Who can pursue without emotion his rapid yet orderly 
transition from one portion of his subject to another? The 
interest still rising till it closes in the triumphant climax of 
the final victory over the two last enemies, death and the 
grave! At length by a road, in which deviation does not 
impede his progress, he reaches the grand consummation. 
Behold I show you a mystery — we shall not all sleep — but 
we shall be changed — in a moment — in the twinkling of an 
eye — at the last trumpet — for the trumpet shall sound — and 
the dead shall be raised incorruptible — and we shall all be 
changed. It is almost profane to talk of beauties, where 
the theme is so transcendent; but this is one of the rare in- 
stances in which amplification adds to spirit, and velocity 
is not retarded by repetition. The rhythm adds to the ef- 
fect, and soothes the mind, while the sentiment elevates it. 
The idea was not newly conceived in the apostle's mind; 
he had told the Thessalonians "the Lord himself shall de- 
scend with a shout, with the voice of an Archangel, and 
the trump of God." His grateful spirit does not forget to 
remind them to whom the victory is owing, to whom the 
thanks are due. 

In the solemn close, alighting again from the world of 
light, and life, and glory, he just touches upon earth to drop 
another brief, but most impressive lesson — that though the 
victory is obtained, though the last conquest is achieved, 
though Christ is actually risen — all these ends accomplish- 
ed, are not to dismiss us from diligence, but to stimulate 



ESSAY OX ST. PAUL. 405 

US to it. They furnish only an additional argument for 
"abounding in the work of the Lord." It adds animation 
to the motive, that from this full exposition of the doctrine, 
they not only believe, but they know, that their labor is not 
in vain in the Lord. 

With this glorious hope what should arrest their progress ? 
With such a reward in view — eternal life, the purchase of 
their risen Saviour, he at once provides them with the most 
effectual spur to diligence, with the only powerful support 
under the sorrows of life, with the only infallible antidote 
against the fear of death. 

To conclude, this blessed apostle never fails, where the 
subject is susceptible of consolation as well as of instruction, 
to deduce both from the same premises. What affectionate 
Christian will not here revert, with grateful joy, to the same 
writer's cheering address to the saints of another church, 
who might labor under the pressing affliction of the death 
of pious friends?* He there offers a new instance, not 
only of his never-failing rule of applying the truth he preach- 
es, but of their immediate application to the feelings of the 
individual. This it is which renders his writings so person- 
ally interesting. That the mourner over the pious dead 
might not *' sorrow as those who have no hope,'* after the 
declaration that "Jesus died and rose again." He builds 
on this general principle, the particular assurance, "Even 
them also who sleep in Jesus will God bring with him." 

What a balm to the breaking heart! — What! the loved 
companion of our youth, the friend of our age, the solace 
of our life, with whom we took sweet counsel, with whom 
we went to the house of God as friends, will Christ bring 
with him.'' Shall the bliss of our suspended intercourse be 
restored, unalloyed by the mutual infirmities which here 
rendered it imperfect, undiminished by the dread of another 
separation? 

Well then might the angel say to Mary at the forsaken 
tomb, " Woman, why weepest thou?" Well might Jesus 
himself repeat the question, " Woman, why weepest th?ou ?" 
Tears are wiped from all eyes. "The voice of joy and 
thanksgiving is in the tabernacles of the righteous." "The 
right hand of the Lord bringeth mighty things to pass." 
The resurrection of Christians is indissolubly involved in 
that of Christ: " because I live, ye shall live also." What 
arc the splendid triumphs of earthly heroes, to his triumph 
over the grave? What are the most signal victory over a 
world of enemies, to his victory over his last enemy? 

•* 1 TIiessal.iHiaDs. iv. 14 



406 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

" Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, 
who, according to his abundant mercy, hath begotten us 
again to a lively hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ 
from the dead." 



CHAP. XIX. 

St. Paid on Prayer, Thanksgiving, and Religions Joy. 

Prayer is an act which seems to be so prepared in the 
frame of our nature; to be so congenial to our dependent 
condition, so suited to our exigencies, so adapted to every 
man's known wants, and to his possibilities of wants un- 
known; so full of relief to the soul, and of peace to the 
mind, and of gladness to the heart; so productive of con- 
fidence in God, and so reciprocally proceeding from that 
confidence, that we should think, if we did not know the 
contrary, that it is a duty which scarcely required to be 
enjoined; that he who had once found out his necessities, 
and that there was no other redress for them, would spon- 
taneously have recourse as a delight, to what he had neg- 
lected as a command; that he who had once tasted the 
bounties of God, would think it a hardship not to be allow- 
ed to thank him for them; that the invitation to pray to his 
Benefactor, was an additional proof of Divine goodness; 
that to be allowed to praise him for his mercies, was itself 
a mercy. 

The apostle's precept, "pray always," — pray evermore, 
pray without ceasing, men ought always to pray, — will not 
be criticised as a pleonasm, if we call to remembrance that 
there is no state of mind, no condition of life, in which 
prayer is not a necessity as well as an obligation. In dan- 
ger, fear impels to it; in trouble, we have no other resource; 
in sickness, we have no other refuge; in dejection, no other 
hope; in death, no other comfort. 

St. Paul frequently shows the word prayer to be a term 
of great latitude, involving the whole compass of our inter- 
course with God. He represents it to include our adora- 
tion of his perfections, our acknowledgment of the wisdom 
of his dispensations, of our obligation for his benefits, prov- 
idential and spiritual; of the avowal of our entire depend- 
ence on him, of our absolute subjection to him, the declar- 
ation of our faith in him, the expression of our devotedness 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 407 

to him; the confession of our own unworthiness, infirmities, 
and sins; the petition for the supply of our wants, and for 
the pardon of our offences; for succor in our distress; for 
a blessing on our undertakings; for the direction of our 
conduct, and the success of our affairs. 

If any should be disposed to think this general view too 
comprehensive, let him point out which of these particulars 
prayer does not embrace; which of these clauses, a rational, 
a sentient, an enlightened, a dependent being can omit in 
his scheme of devotion. 

But as the multifarious concerns of human life will ne- 
cessarily occasion a suspension of the exercise; St. Paul, 
ever attentive to the principle of the act, and to the circum- 
stances of the actor, reduces all these qualities to their es- 
sence, when he resolves them into the spirit of supplication. 

To pray incessantly, therefore, appears to be, in his view 
of the subject, to keep the mind in an habitual disposition 
and propensity to devotion; for there is a sense in which 
we may be said to do that which we are willing to do, though 
there are intervals of thought, as well as intermissions of 
the act. "As a traveller," says Dr. Barrow, " may be said 
to be still on his journey, though he stops to take needful 
rest, and to transact necessary business." If he pause, he 
does not turn out of the way; his pursuit is not diverted, 
though occasionally interrupted. 

Constantly maintaining the disposition, then, and never 
neglecting the actual duty; never slighting the occasion 
which presents itself, nor violating the habit of stated devo- 
tion, may, we presume, be called "to pray without ceas- 
ing." The expression "watching unto prayer," implies 
this vigilance in finding, and this zeal in laying hold on 
these occasions. 

The success of prayer, though promised to all, who offer 
it in perfect sincerity, is not so frequently promised to the 
cry of distress, to the impulse of fear, or the emergency 
of the moment, as to humble continuance in devotion. It 
is to patient waiting, to assiduous solicitation, to unwearied 
importunity, that God has declared that he will lend his 
ear, that he will give the communication of his Spirit, that 
he will grant the return of our requests. Nothing but this 
holy perseverance can keep up in our minds an humble 
sense of our dependence. It is not by a mere casual peti- 
tion, however passionate, but by habitual application, that 
devout affections are excited and maintained; that our con- 
verse with heaven is carried on. It is by no other means 
that we can be assured, with St. Paul, that " we are risen 



408 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

with Christ," but this obvious one, that we thus seek the 
things which arc above; that the heart is renovated; that 
the mind is Ufted above this low scene of things; that the 
spirit breathes in a purer atmosphere ; that the whole man 
is enlightened, and strengthened, and purified; and that the 
more frequently, so the more nearly, he approaches to the 
throne of God. He will find also, that prayer not only 
expresses, but elicits the divine grace. 

Yet do we not allow every idle plea, every frivolous pre- 
tence, to divert us from our better resolves.? Business brings 
in its grave apology; pleasure its bewitching excuse. But 
if we would examine our hearts truly, and report them faith- 
fully, we should find the fact to be, that disinclination to 
this employment, oftener than our engagement in any other, 
keeps us from this sacred intercourse with our Maker. 

Under circumstances of distress, indeed, prayer is adopt- 
ed with comparatively little reluctance: the mind, which 
knows not where to fly, flies to God, In agony, nature is 
no atheist. The soul is drawn to God by a sort of natural 
impulse; not always, perhaps, by an emotion of piety; but 
from a feeling conviction, that every other refuge is " a 
refuge of lies." Oh! thou afflicted, tossed with tempests, 
and not comforted, happy if thou art either drawn or driven, 
with holy David, to say to thy God, "Thou art a place to 
hide me in." 

But if it is easy for the sorrowing heart to give up a 
world, by whom itself seems to he given up, there are 
other demands for prayer equally imperative. There are 
circumstances more dangerous, yet less suspected of danger, 
in which, though the call is louder, it is less heard; because 
the voice of conscience is drowned by the clamors of the 
world. Prosperous fortunes, unbroken health, flattering 
friends, buoyant spirits, a spring-tide of success — these are 
the occasions when the very abundance of God's mercies 
is apt to fill the heart till it hardens it. Loaded with riches, 
crowned with dignities, successful in enterprise; beset with 
snares in the shape of honors, with perils under the mask 
of pleasures; then it is, that to the already saturated heart, 
"to-morrow shall be as this day, and more abundant," is 
more in unison than " what shall I render to the Lord." 

Men of business, especially men in power and public 
situations, are in no little danger of persuading themselves, 
that the afiiiirs which occupy their time and mind, being, 
as they really are, great and important duties, exonerate 
those who perform them from the necessity of the same 
strictne.ss in devotion, which thev allow to be right fc>i inei? 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 409 

of leisure; and which, when they become men of leisure 
themselves, they are resolved to adopt; — but now is the ac- 
cepted time, here is the accepted place, however they may 
be tempted to think that an exact attention to public duty, 
and an unimpeachable rectitude in discharging it, is itself a 
substitute for the oflices of piety 

But these great and honorable persons are the very men 
to whom superior cares, and loftier duties, and higher res- 
ponsibilities, render prayer even more necessary, were it 
possible, than to others. Nor does this duty trench upon 
other duties, for the compatibilities of prayer are universal. 
It is an exercise which has the property of incorporating 
itself with every other; not only not impeding, but advanc- 
ing it. If secular thoughts, and vain imaginations, often 
break in on our devout employments, let us allow religion 
to vindicate her rights, by uniting herself with our worldly 
occupations. There is no crevice so small at which de- 
votion may not slip in: no other instance of so rich a 
blessing being annexed to so easy a condition; no other 
case in which there is any certainty, that to ask is to have. 
This the suitors to the great do not always find so easy 
from them, as the great themselves find from God. 

Not only the elevation on which they stand makes this 
fence necessary for their personal security, by enabling 
them to bear the height without giddiness, but the guid- 
ance of God's hand is so essential to the operations they 
conduct, that the public prosperity, no less than their own 
safety, is involved in the practice of habitual prayer. 
God will be more likely to bless the hand which steers, 
and the head which directs, when both are ruled by the 
heart which prays. Happily we need not look out of our 
own age or nation for instances of public men, who, while 
they govern the country, are themselves governed by a 
religious principle: who petition the Almighty for direction, 
and praise him for success. 

The duty which Paul enjoins — " praying always with all 
prayer and supplication in the spirit, and watching thereto 
with all perseverance," — would be the surest means to 
augment our love to God. We gradually cease to love a 
benefactor of whom wc cease to think. The frequent 
recollection would warm our afFections, and wo should 
more cordially devote our lives to him to whom wc should 
more frequently consecrate our hearts. The apostle 
therefore inculcates prayer, not only as an act, but as a 
frame of mind. 

In all his writings eflectual pravcr uniformly supposes 
18 



410 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

accompanying preparatory virtue. Prayer draws all the 
Christian graces into its focus. It draws charity, followed 
by her lovely train — of forbearance with faults; forgiveness 
of injuries, pity for errors, and relieving of wants. It 
draws repentance, with her holy sorrows, her pious reso- 
lutions, her self-distrust. It attracts faith, with her ele- 
vated eye — hope, with her grasped anchor — beneficence, 
with her open hand — zeal, looking far and wide to serve — 
humility with introverted eye, looking at home. Prayer, 
by quickening these graces in the heart, warms them into 
life, fits them for service, and dismisses each to its appro- 
priate practice. Prayer is mental virtue; virtue is spiritual 
action. The mould into which genuine prayer casts the 
soul, is not effaced by the suspension of the act, but re- 
tains some touches of the impression till the act is re- 
peated. 

Prayer, divested of the love of God, will obtain nothing, 
because it asks nothing cordially. It is only the interior 
sentiment that gives life and spirit to devotion. To those 
who possess this, prayer is not only a support, but a solace: 
to those who want it, it is not only an insipid task, but a 
religious penalty. Our apostle every where shows that 
purity of heart, resignation of spirit, peace and joy in be- 
lieving, can by no other expedient, be maintained in life, 
activity, and vigor. Prayer so circumstanced is the ap- 
pointed means for drawing down the blessing we solicit, 
and the pardon we need. 

Yet that the best things are liable to abuse, is a com- 
plaint echoed by all writers of ethics. Certain mystics, 
pretending to extraordinary illumination, have converted 
this holy exercise into a presumptuous error. Intense 
meditation itself has been turned into an instrument of 
spiritual pride, and led the mistaken recluse to overlook 
the appointed means of instruction; to reject the scriptures, 
to abandon the service of the sanctuary, and to expect to 
be snatched, like holy Paul, up to the third heaven, de- 
serting those prescribed and legitimate methods which 
would more surely have conducted him thither. The his- 
tory of the apostle himself presents a striking lesson in 
this case. " Let us remember," says one of the fathers, 
"that though Paul was miraculously converted by an 
immediate vision from heaven, he was nevertheless sent 
for baptism and instruction to a man." 

Holy Paul calls upon us to meditate on the multitude 
and the magnitude of the gifts of God. When we con- 
sider how profusely he bestows and how little he requires; 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 



411 



that while he confers like deity, he desires only such poor 
returns as can be made by indigent, mendicant mortality; 
that he requires no costly oblation ; nothing that will im- 
poverish, but, on the contrary, will inconceivably enrich 
the giver. When we consider this, we are ready to won- 
der that he will accept so poor a thing as impotent grati- 
tude for immeasurable bounty. When we reflect, that our 
very desire to praise him is his gift— that his grace must 
purify the offering, before he condescends to receive it, 
must confer it on that spirit which renders it acceptable— 
that he only expects we should consecrate to him, what 
we have received from him,— that we should only confess, 
that of all we enjoy, nothing is our due— we may well 
blush at our insensibility. _ 

We think, perhaps, as we have observed in another 
place, had he commanded us to " do some great thing,'' 
to raise some monument of splendor, some memorial of 
notoriety and ostentation, something that would perpetuate 
our own name with his goodness, we should gladly have 
done it. How much more when he only requires, 

Our thanks, how due! 

When he only asks the homage of the heart, the expres- 
sion of our dependence, the recognition of his right! 

Concerning the duty of intercessory prayer for those 
we love, the~apostle has bequeathed us a high and holy 
example. He has given us not only injunctions, but spe- 
cimens. Observe for what it is that " he bows his knees 
to God " in behalf of his friends. Is it for an increase of 
their wealth, their power, their fame, or any other external 
prosperity? No: it is that "God would grant them ac- 
cording to the riches of his glory, to be strengthened with 
might in the inner man:"— it is that " Christ may dwell 
in their hearts by faith;"— it is "that they may be rooted 
and grounded in love," and this to a glorious end — " that 
they may be able, with all saints, to comprehend " the vast 
dimensions of the love of Christ;— that "they may be 
filled with all the fulness of God." These are the sort 
of petitions which we need never hesitate to present. 
These are requests which we may rest assured are always 
agreeable to the divine will; here we arc certain we can- 
not " pray amiss." These arc intercessions of which the 
benefit may be felt, when wealth, and fame, and power 
shall be forgotten thin<Tr^. 

Why does Paul " i)ray day and night that ho might see 
the face of his Thessalonian converts?" Not merely that 
he might have the gratification of once more beholding 



412 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

those he loved — though that would sensibly delight so af- 
fectionate a heart — but " that he might perfect that which 
was lacking in their faith." 

Here is an instance of a spirit so large in its affections, 
so high in their object; of a man who had so much of heav- 
en in his friendships, so much of soul in his attachments, 
that he thought time too brief, earth too scanty, worldly 
blessings too low, to enter deeply into his petitions for those 
to whom time and earth, the transitory blessings of life, and 
life itself, would so soon be no more. 

In exciting us to perpetual gratitude, St. Paul stirs us up 
to the duty of keeping before our eyes the mercies which 
so peremptorily demand it. These mercies succeed each 
other so rapidly, or rather, are crowded upon us so simul- 
taneously, that if we do not count them as they are receiv- 
ed, and record them as they are enjoyed, their very multi- 
tude, which ought to penetrate the heart more deeply, will 
cause them to slip out of the memory. 

The apostle acknowledges the gratitude due to God to 
arise from his being the universal proprietor, — whose I am, 
and ivhom I serve; thus making the obedience to grow out 
of the dependence. He serves his Maker because he is his 
property. We should reflect on the superiority of the boun- 
ties of our heavenly Father, over those of our earthly friends, 
not only in their number and quality, but especially in their 
unremitting constancy. The dearest friends only think of 
us occasionally, nor can we be so unreasonable as to ex- 
pect to be the constant object of their attention. If they 
assist us under the immediate pressure of distress, their 
cares are afterwards remitted. 

Many, besides us, have a claim upon their kindness, and 
they could not invariably attend to us without being unjust 
to others. If a man were to lay out his whole stock of af- 
fection upon one individual, how many duties must he neg- 
lect, how many claims must he slight, how much injustice 
must he commit, of how much ingratitude would he be 
guilty! And as an earthly friend cannot divide his benefits, 
or even the common acts of kindness among an indefinite 
number, and as human means have limits, so his benevo- 
lence can generally be little more than good will. But the 
exhaustless fund of infinite love can never be diminished; — 
though the distribution is universal, though the diffusion is 
as wide as his rational creation, though the continuance 
is as durable as his own eternity, the beneficence of al- 
mighty power needs not, like his creatures, deduct from 
one, because it is liberal to another. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 413 

Our kindest friend may not always know our secret sor- 
rows, and with the utmost goodness of intention cannot ap- 
ply a balsam, where he does not know there is a wound; 
or it may be a wound deeper than human skill can reach, 
or human kindness cure. Again, our weaknesses may 
often weary, and sometimes disgust, even an attached 
friend; but it is the feeling of these very infirmities with 
which our divine High Priest is so tenderly touched. His 
compassion arises from a deep and intimate sense of sym- 
pathy — for he was in all points tempted like as we are, yet 
in no point did he sin. 

It is in this view that we become so personally interested 
in the attributes of God ; that they come in so completely 
in aid of our necessities, and to the supply of our comforts. 
As his omniscience brings him fully acquainted with all our 
wants, and his omnipotence enables him to relieve them; 
so his immortality is pledged for ours, and ensures to us 
the perpetuity of our blessings. What a glorious idea, 
that the attributes of the self-dependent and everlasting God 
are laid out in the service of his children! 

But the apostle, not contented with the double injunc- 
tions, — pray evermore; in every thing give thanks, — links to 
it a most exhilarating duty — rejoice for evermore. This 
single exhortation — 7'ejoice i?i the Lord — is not sufficient, it 
is reiterated without limit, again I say rejoice! But what 
are the chief causes of Paul's joy? — " that God hath made 
us meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in 
light," — "that he hath dehvered us from the powers of 
darkness," — "that he hath translated us into the kingdom 
of his dear Son" — that we have redemption through his 
blood, even the forgiveness of sins." What is " his hope, 
or joy, or crown of rejoicing! " — that he should meet his 
converts in the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ at his 
coming. 

But this blessed saint found surprising subjects of joy, sub- 
jects with which a stranger does not desire to intermeddle. 
To rejoice in tribulation ; to take joyfully the spoiling of his 
goods; to rejoice in the sufferings of his friends; to rejoice 
that he loas counted ^corthy to suffer for the sake of Christ. 
This is, indeed, a species of joy which the world does not 
desire to take from him, nor to share with him. In the close 
of the description of his way of life, of which temptation, 
and trial, and sorrow, and sufferings, are the gradations, 
the climax is commonly not merely resignation, but triumph; 
not submission only, but joy. 

It is worth our observation, that by perseverance in prayer 



414 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

he was enabled to glory in the infirmity which he had thrice 
besought the Lord might depart fiom him. And it is a most 
impressive part of his character, that he never gloried in 
"those visions and revelations of the Lord," but in the in- 
firmities, reproaches, necessities, persecutions for Christ's 
sake, which were graciously sent to counteract any ela- 
tion of heart, which such extraordinary distinctions might 
have occasioned. Like his blessed Lord, he disclosed all 
the circumstances of his degradation to the eye of the world, 
and concealed only those of his glory. 

The same spirit of Christian generosity which directed 
his petitions, influenced also his thanksgivings for his 
friends. What are the subjects for which he praises God 
on their behalf? — not that they are enriched or exalted, but 
"that their faith groweth exceedingly." Again to the 
Philippians, " holding forth the word of life, that I may 
rejoice in the day of Christ that I have not run in vain, 
neither labored in vain. 

But the apostle endeavors most especially to kindle our 
grateful joy for the redemption of the world by our Lord 
Jesus Christ; a blessing which, though thrown open to the 
acceptance of all on the offered terms, is to every believer 
distinctly personal. He endeavors to excite our praises 
for every instance of faith and holiness recorded in Scrip- 
ture. He teaches us, that whatsoever was written afore- 
time, was written for our instruction. The humble believer 
may claim his share — for in this case appropriation is not 
monopoly — of every doctrine, of every precept, of every 
promise, of every example. The Christian may exultingly 
say, the Holy Scriptures were written for my reproof, for 
7ny correction, for my instruction in righteousness. The 
Holy Spirit, who teaches me to apply it to myself, dictated 
it for me. Not a miracle upon record, not an instance of 
trust in God, not a pattern of obedience to Him, not a 
gratulation of David, not a prophecy of Isaiah, not an office 
of Christ, not a doctrine of an evangelist, not an exhorta- 
tion of an apostle, not a consolation of St. Paul, but has 
its immediate application to m?/ wants; but makes a distinct 
call on my gratitude; but furnishes a personal demand upon 
my responsibility. The whole record of the sacred canon 
is but a record of the special mercies of God to me, and of 
his promises to myself, and to every individual Christian to 
the end of the world. 

That divine spirit, which dictated the inspired volume, 
has taken care that we should never be at a loss for materials 
for devotion. Not a prophet or apostle but has more or 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 415 

less contributed to the sacred fund, but has cast his mite 
into the treasury. The writings of St, Paul, especially, are 
rich in petitions, abundant in thanksgivings, overflowing in 
praises. The Psalms of David have enlarged the medium 
of intercourse between earth and heaven. They have sup- 
plied to all ages materials for Christian worship, under 
every supposable circumstance of human life. They have 
facilitated the means of negotiation for the penitent, and 
of gratitude for the pardoned. They have provided confes- 
sion for the contrite, consolation for the broken hearted, 
invitation to the weary, and rest for the heavy laden. They 
have furnished petitions for the needy, praise for the grate- 
ful, and adoration for all. However indigent in himself, 
no one can complain of want, who has access to such a 
magazine of intellectual and spiritual treasure. These 
variously gifted compositions, not only kindle the devoutest 
feeling, but suggest the aptest expressions: they invest the 
sublimest meanings with the noblest eloquence. They have 
taught the tongue of the stammerer to speak plainly; they 
have furnished him who was ready to perish for the lack of 
knowledge, with principles as well as feelings; they have 
provided the illiterate with the form, and the devout with 
the spirit of prayer. To him who previously felt not his 
wants, they have imparted fervent desires, they have in- 
spired the faint with energy, and the naturally dead, with 
spiritual life. 

The writings and the practice of St. Paul do not less 
abundantly, than the compositions of David, manifest the 
supreme power of fervent devotion. The whole tenor of 
his life proves that his heart was habitually engaged in 
intercourse with the Father of spirits.. His conversation, 
like the face of Moses, betrays, by its brightness, that he 
had familiar admission to the presence of God. He ex- 
hibits the noblest instance, with which the world has pre- 
sented us, of this peculiar effect of vital religion: that sup- 
plication is the dialect of the poor in spirit, thanksgiving 
the idiom of the genuine Christian, praise his vernacular 



416 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

CHAP. XX. 
St. Paul an Example to Familiar Life. 

The highest state of moral goodness is compounded of 
the avowed properties of ripened habits, growing out of 
genuine Christian principles, invigorated and confirmed by 
the energy of the Holy Spirit: — this is evangelical virtue. 

St. Paul contrasts the power of opposite habits with won- 
derful force in his two pictures, one of the debasing slavery 
of a vicious mind, and the other of the almost mechanical 
power of superinduced good habits in a virtuous one: — 
' ' Know ye not that to ivliom ye yield yourselves servants to 
obey, his servants ye are to whom ye obey, whether of sin unto 
death, or of obedience unto righteousnessV'* What a domin- 
ion must holy principles and holy habits have obtained in 
that mind, when he could say, " The life that I now live, 1 
live by the faith of the So7i of God, who loved me, and gave 
himself for me," — " lam crucified to the world, and the world 
is crucified to me!" Mere morality never rose to this super- 
human triumph, never exhibited such a proof of its own 
power to establish Christian practice. To these rooted 
habits the sacred writers sometimes apply the term per- 
fection. 

St. Paul, when he speaks of perfection, could only mean 
that fixedness of principle, and Christian elevation of char- 
acter, which, under the influence of Divine grace, is actu- 
ally attainable; he could not mean to intimate that he 
expected man to l;e freed from liability to error, to be 
completely exempted from the inroads of passion, to be no 
longer obnoxious to deviations and deflections from the 
law, by which he is yet mainly guided and governed. He 
could not expect him to be entirely and absolutely delivered 
from the infirmities of his frail and fallen nature. But 
though this general uniformity of good habits may occasion- 
ally, through the surprise of passion and the assaults of 
temptation, be in some degree broken, yet these invaders 
are not encouraged, but repelled: though some actions may 
be more imperfect, and some wrong tempers may still un- 
happily intrude themselves, yet vigilance and prayer obtain 
such a power of resistance, as finally almost to subdue 
these corruptions; and those that are not altogether con- 
quered, but occasionally break out, induce a habit of 

* Romans, ch. vi. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 417 

watchfulness over the suspected places, and keep the heart 
humble, by a feeHng of these remains of infirmity. 

But even here, such are the stratagems of the human 
heart for conceahng its corruptions, not only from others, 
but from itself, that it is incumbent on every individual so 
to examine, as clearly to discover, his own real character; 
to inquire, whether he is at the same time sincerely mourn- 
ing over his remaining disorders, and earnestly desiring 
an'd dihgently cultivating a new vital principle of faith and 
holiness ; or whether he has only been making a certain 
degree of improvement in this or that particular quality, 
while he continues both destitute and undesirous of this 
vital principle, which is the first seed of the divine life. 

It should seem, that the term " perfect," as well in other 
parts of Scripture as in the writings of St. Paul, not only 
has not always the exact meaning which we assign to it, 
but has different meanings, according to the occasion on 
which it is employed. Sometimes this term expresses the 
aim rather than the acquisition, as in that injunction of our 
Saviour — " Be ye perfect, as your Father who is in heaven 
is perfect." Sometimes it appears to imply, being furnish- 
ed with needful instruction in all points, as in Paul's direc- 
tion to Timothy, — " that the man of God may be perfect, 
thoroughly furnished unto all good works." Often it means 
nearly the same with religious sincerity, as in Proverbs, — 
" for the upright shall dwell in the land, and the perfect 
shall remain in it." Sometimes it is used with a special 
reference to abhorrence of idolatry, as when the expression 
" perfect heart" is applied to various kings of Judah. The 
meaning in Philippians, " Let us therefore, as many as be 
perfect,''be thus minded," seems to import only real ear- 
nestness. Perfection, in the precise notion of it, admits 
not of gradation, nor of advancement in the same quality. 

The highest kind of perfection of which man is capable, 
is to " love God and Jesus Christ whom he has sent, with 
all his heart;" that is, so to love as to obey the laws of the 
one, while he rests on the merits of the other. Paul inti- 
mates that our happiness consists in the pardon of our sins, 
and our holiness in our conquest over them; and perhaps 
there is not a more dangerous delusion, than to separate 
the forgiveness from the subjugation: the pardon, indeed, 
is absolute, the conquest comparative. He places attain- 
able perfection in the obedience of faith, in the labors of 
charity, in the purity of holiness; i)roving that to aspire 
after this perfection, all men, according to their respective 
advantages, are under equal obligation; and it is not too 



418 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

much to assert, that no one lives up to the dignity of man, 
who does not habitually aspire to the perfection of a Chris- 
tian. For to come as near to God, that is, as near to per- 
fection, as our nature was intended to approach, is but to 
answer the end for which we were sent into the world. — 
And do we not defeat that end, while we are not only con- 
tented to live so much below our acknowledged standard, 
but while we rest satisfied, without even aspiring towards 
it? 

While Paul strenuously endeavors to abate confidence, 
and beat down presumption, he is equally careful, not by 
lowering the tone of perfection, to foster negligence, or to 
cherish indolence. He speaks as one who knew that sloth 
is an enemy, the more dangerous for being insidiously 
quiet. It saps the principle as effectually, if not as expe- 
ditiously, as other vices storm it. It is, indeed, in the power 
of this one inert sin, to perform the worst work of all the 
active ones — to destroy the soul. He admonishes us 
equally, by his writings and by his example, to carry all 
the liveliness of our feelings, and the vigor of our faculties, 
into our religion. He knew that a cold indifference, that 
a lifeless profession, would ill prepare us for that vital 
world, that real land of the living, that immortality which 
is all life, and soul, and spirit. He therefore prescribes 
for us patients, who need to be stimulated, full as often as 
to be lowered, in our moral temperature; nay, whose gen- 
eral constitution of mind presents a large portion of languor 
to be invigorated, and of lethargy to be animated. " A 
physician," says bishop Jeremy Taylor, " would have small 
employment on the Riphsean mountains, if he could cure 
nothing but calentures; dead palsies and consumptions are 
their diseases." 

The apostle, however, intimates frequently, that perfec- 
tion does not consist in a higher heroic elevation in some 
particular point, which, as few could reach, so fewer would 
aim at it; but in a steady principle, an equable piety, a 
consistent practice, an unremitting progress. If the stan- 
dard held up were singular, it would be unprofitable. An 
exhibition of character rather to be wondered at, than imi- 
tated, would be a useless perfection. A prodigy is not a 
model. It would be no duty to copy a miracle, but pre- 
sumptuous to expect that a miracle would be wrought for 
us. To call on all to " perfect holiness in the fear of God" 
— to exhort men to "go unto perfection," would be mock- 
ing human infirmity, if the apostle meant something which 
only a very few could attain. — " Pressing on unto perfec- 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 419 

tion," can mean little more than a perpetual improvement 
in piety and virtue. 

Let us then be animated and encouraged by Scripture 
instances of excellence, and not deterred by them, as if 
they were too sublime for our imitation, as if exalted piety 
were to be limited to a few peculiar favorites of Heaven, 
were the exclusive prerogative of some distinguished ser- 
vants of God, the rare effect of some miraculous gift. All 
grace is indeed a miracle, but it is not a singular, it is not 
an exclusive miracle. Whole churches, with exceptions 
no doubt, have been favored with it. St. Paul speaks of 
large communities, not universally, we presume, but gen- 
erally, touched by divine grace, so as collectively to be- 
come '-'the joy and crown of his rejoicing." Hear him 
declare of his Roman converts, that they " were full of all 
goo-dness, filled with all knowledge;" of the Corinthians — 
that they "were enriched in every thing — that they 
abounded in all failh and diligence:''' mark the connection 
of these two attributes; " faith" in one, nor in another, is 
not the slackener of duty, but in all the principle and spring 
of the same " diligence." These hish commendations are 
not limited to ApoUos, his associate in the ministry, nor to 
"Timothy, his dearly beloved son;" nor to Titus, his " own 
son after the common faith," nor to any other of those dis- 
tinguished saints " who labored with him in the Gospel." 

We may therefore fairly consider St. Paul, not as an 
instructer nor as a model, exclusively for martyrs, and 
ministers, and missionaries. As the instruction of Christ's 
sermon on the mount, though primarily addressed to his 
disciples, was by no means restricted to them ; so the exhort- 
ations of Paul are not confined to ecclesiastical teachers, 
though he had them much in view. The inclosure lies 
open to all; the entrance is left free; the possibility of sal- 
vation is universal, the invitation is as large as the benevo- 
lence of God, the persons invited as numerous as his whole 
rational creation. 

It is a beautiful part of his character, and it is what con- 
tril)utes to make him so uniformly a pattern, that all his 
strength is not reserved for, nor expended entirely on, 
those great demands which so frequently occurred, to an- 
swer which he was always so fully prepared, and which he 
encountered with such unshaken fortitude. 

His intervals were filled up with shades of the same 
color: the same principle was set at work in all the common 
events of his daily life: the same dispositions which were 
ripening him for his finnl siifToring, oporntcd in the humble, 



420 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

tender, forbearing habits, in which he was perpetually 
exercised. The divine principle had resolved itself into a 
settled frame of mind. And it was in the hourly cultiva- 
tion of that most amiable branch of it, Christian charity, 
that he acquired such maturity in the heroic virtue of en- 
during patience. To deny his own inclinations, to sustain 
the infirmities of the weak, to bear the burden of others, 
he considered as indispensable in the followers of Him, 
whose lovely characteristic it was, that he pleased not 
HIMSELF. In enjoining this temper on his Roman converts, 
he winds up his injunction, with ascribing to the Almighty 
the two attributes which render Him the fountain of grace, 
for the production of this very temper in all alike who call 
upon Him for it. He denominates Him the God of patience 
and consolation. 

We must not therefore fancy that this eminent saint was 
not an example to private life, because his destination was 
higher, and his trials greater than ours. This superiority 
cannot disqualify him for a copy. We must aim at the 
highest point. It is easier to reduce a portrait than en- 
large it. All may have the same grace; and some actually 
/lave great, if not equal trials. If Christians are not now 
called like him, to martyrdom, they are frequently called 
to bear the long protracted sufferings of sickness without 
mitigation, of penury without relief, of sorrows without re- 
dress. Some are called to bear them all, without even the 
comfort of witnesses, without the soothings of pity. 

If the elevation of his conduct does not place this great 
apostle above our imitation, no more does the sublimity of 
his principles, as we find them exhibited in his writings. 
His piety in both is equally of a practical nature. We rise 
from perusing many a treatise of metaphysical morality, 
without clearly ascertaining its precise object; at least, 
without carrying away any one specific principle for the 
regulation of our own heart and life. We admire the inge- 
nuity of the work, as we admire the contrivance of a laby- 
rinth; it is curiously devised; but its intricacy, while it has 
amused, has embarrassed us. We feel that we might have 
made our way, and attained our end, more easily and more 
speedily, in a plain path, where less perplexity required no 
artificial clue. The direct morality of our apostle has none 
of this Dcedalian enginery. 

St. Paul, in one sense, always writes like a man of the 
actual world. His is not a religion of theory, but of facts, 
of feelings, of principles; a religion exactly accommodated 
to the bein^ for whom ho proscribes. Our passions and 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 



421 



our reason, our hopes and our fears, our infirmities and 
our supports, our lapse and our restoration, all find their 
place in his discussions. He consults every part of our 
nature; he writes for material and immaterial, for mortal 
and immortal man. 

He does not abound in those desultory and random dis- 
cussions, which distract the mind, and leave the reader at 
a loss what he is to think and what he is to do. He does 
not philosophize upon abstract truths, nor reason upon 
conjectural notions; but bears witness to what he has seen 
and known, and deduces practical instruction from actual 
events. He is therefore distinct in his exposition of doc- 
trines and duties; explicit in his injunctions and reproofs; 
and this because truth is absolute. We can scarcely 
peruse a sentence in his writings, without finding some- 
thing to bring away from them for our own use, something 
which belongs to ourselves, something which would have 
been seasonably addressed to us, had he been our personal 
correspondent. 

He knew mankind too well, not to know the necessity 
of speaking out: he knew, that if any opening was left, 
they would interpret it in their own favor; that they would 
slip out of every thing which was not precisely explained 
and definitely enjoined. He was aware that the reason 
why men profit so little by Scripture instruction is because, 
in applying it, they are disposed to think only of other 
people, and are apt to forget themselves. He knew it was 
not easy to lower the world's good opinion of itself That 
the quicksightedness of certain persons, errs, not in mis- 
understanding the justness of a reproof, but only in mistak- 
ing its object; and that, by directing the censure to others, 
they turn away the point of the weapon from their own 
bosoms. Yet he makes charitable allowance for the capa- 
cities, the exigencies, and the temptations of a world so 
diversely circumstanced. Like his blessed Master, he 
would have all men every where to be saved; and, like 
him, left no means unessayed, which might promote this 
great end. 

We must not imagine that Christianity is not precisely 
the same thing now, as it was when our apostle published 
it, because its external marks are not so completely identi- 
fied. A more animated zeal in religion might have been 
visible and legitimate in the first ages of the Church, than 
commonly in the present. The astonishing change then 
eflfected in the minds of men, was rapid, and often instan- 
taneous. In our day, it is usually gradual. It is no won- 



42:^ ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

der that persons should have been overwhelmed with joy 
and gratitude, at being suddenly rescued from the darkness 
of Pagan idolatry, at being delivered from the bondage of 
the Jewish ritual, and translated into the glorious liberty 
of the children of God. The total revolution in the mind, 
and in the principles, would certainly produce a sensible 
alteration in the external habits and visible practice of the 
Gentile convert; whose morals, if he were indeed a con- 
vert, would be as different from what they had previously 
been, as his faith; and he as different from his former self, 
as any two men from each other. This, consequently, 
would make the change more obvious than in the renovat- 
ed character of a nominal Christian, now brought to em- 
brace vital Christianity; in whose outward observances, 
antecedent and subsequent to his change, there might pro- 
bably be no very apparent alteration. 

In the days of the apostle, the holy sacrament of baptism 
was likely to be, in the very highest sense of the word, 
regeneration. It was not only the outward and visible 
sign of an inward and spiritual grace ; but it was also, for 
the most part, an actual evidence that such grace had been 
effectually received unto eternal salvation. The convert 
then was an adult, and received baptism as his explicit 
confession, and open adoption of the new faith. To bring 
men "to believe with the heart, and to confess with the 
tongue," the divinity of the Redeemer, was to bring them 
to be truly converted. " No man could say that Jesus was 
the Lord, but by the Holy Ghost." As the apostles had 
neither reputation to influence, nor authority to compel, 
nor riches to bribe, so it is obvious that there was nothing 
to attract men to Christianity, except their full conviction 
of its divine truth. It was hostile to their secular advance- 
ment, to their interests, their reputation, their safety. 
Hypocrisy was consequently a rare, when it was a losing 
sin. A hypocrite was not likely to embrace a faith by 
which he was sure to gain nothing in this world, if it were 
false; and nothing till after his death, if it were true. 
Christians were such optionally, or not at all. 

It was not then probable, that he who was baptized 
under such circumstances, would be merely aa external 
convert. According to all human means of judging, that 
" faith " existed, which is said by an article to be " con- 
firmed " in baptism; and this holy sacrament became not 
only an initiatory, but a confirmatory rite. 

There were at that time no hereditary professors; there 
was no such thing as Christianity by transmission. Theio 



E^SAY ON ST. PAUL. 



423 



was therefore a broad line to step over, whenever the new 
fiiith was adopted. There was no gradual introduction 
into it by education, no slipping into it by habit, no wear- 
ing its badge by fashion. 

But if the novelty attending the early introduction to 
Christianity has ceased; if living in a land where it is 
universally professed, being educated in some acquaint- 
ance with the Christian faith, finding easy access into the 
temples in which it is preached, habitually attending on its 
services, Uving under laws which are imbued with its 
spirit; if all this takes off the apparent effect, if it lessens 
the surprise, if it moderates the joy and wonder, which a 
total change in external circumstances was calculated to 
excite; if it even lessens in a degree the visible aUeration 
produced in hearts awakened by it; if this change was 
more obvious in the conversion of those who were before 
wallowing in the grossest abominations, or sunk in the 
most degrading superstitions, than in those who are con- 
versant with the decencies of life, who had previously 
observed the forms of religion, and practised many of the 
social virtues; yet, in the views and in the feelings, in the 
heart and in the spirit, in the principle of the mind, and in 
the motive of the conduct, the change in the one case has 
a very near affinity to the change in the other. The dif- 
ference of circumstances diminishes nothing of the real 
power of divine grace; it does not alter the nature of the 
change inwardly effected; it does not manifest now, less 
than It did then, the pitifulness of God's great mercy in 
delivering, those who are tied and bound with the chain of 
their sins. 

Had St. Paul been a profligate or immoral man, we 
apprehend that his conversion would, as an example, have 
lost much of its power. The two extremes of character 
might in that case, indeed, more forcibly strike the super- 
ficial inquirer. But to show the turpitude of gross vice, a 
miracle is not necessary; Christianity is not necessary. 
The thing was self-evident; Antoninus and Epictetus could 
have shown it. But for a man who had previously such 
strong claims to respect from others, such pretensions on 
which to value himself,— his Hebrew descent; his early 
initiation into the distinguishing Jewish rite ; his Pharisaic 
exactness, an exactness not hypocritical, but conscientious; 
his unquestionable morals, his blameless righteousness in 
all that pertained to the law, his correctness of demeanor, 
his strict observance of religious forms; that such a man 
should need the further subjugation of his passions, his 



424 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

pride, his bigotry, and uncharitableness ; that, in short, he 
should require a total and radical renovation of the charac- 
ter and the soul, — this was indeed a wonder worthy of 
divine inspiration to declare, as well as of Divine grace to 
accomplish; and this change, when really effected, afford- 
ed an appeal for the truth of the doctrine, both to the heart 
and to the understanding, more powerful than volumes of 
arguments. 

St. Paul was aware, that there is frequently more danger 
where there is less scandal; that some fancy they are re- 
formed, because they have exchanged the sensual for the 
spiritual vices; that in truth, men oftener change their sins 
than their nature, put pride into their correctness, and 
violence into their zeal, and uncharitableness into their 
sobriety, and covetousness into their prudence, and censo- 
riousness into their abstinence. Among the better dispos- 
ed, he knew there were many who, after they are brought 
to embrace religion, think they have nothing more to do. 
They were, perhaps, sincere in their inquiries, and their 
convictions were strong. But having once obtained a 
confidence in their acceptance, they conclude that all is 
well. They live upon their capital, if we may be allowed 
the expression; and so depend upon their assurance, as if 
their personal work was done. To both of these classes 
he directs the warning voice, Go on unto perfection. To 
both he virtually represents, that if the transformation were 
real, it would animate them to increased earnestness; while 
their desires would be more fervent, their piety would not 
evaporate in desires, their constant ifear of relaxing would 
quicken their progress. 

It is worth remarking, that throughout the Holy Scrip- 
tures, and especially throughout the writings of the apostle 
— striving ivith principalities and powers, putting on the whole 
armor of God, continuing iiistant i7i prayer, seeking those 
things which are above, mortifying your members, avoiding 
inordinate affections and covetousness, ivhich is idolatry, are 
not applied to the profane, or even to the careless, but to 
those Avho had made a great proficiency in religion; not to 
novices, but to saints. These are continually cautioned 
against sitting down at ease in their religious possessions; 
they are exhorted, on the contrary, to augment them. It 
is not, as an able writer says, " longing after great discov- 
eries, nor after great tastes of the love of God, nor longing 
to be in heaven, nor longing to die, that are such distin- 
guishing marks of a perfect Christian, as longing after a 
more holy heart, and living a more holy life."* 

* Dr. Owen on the Holy Spirit. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 



425 



The apostle shows that we must not sit down satisfied 
even in the habitual desire, even in the general tendency 
to what is right. He frequently stirs up the reader to 
actual exercise, to quickening exertions: without such 
movements, he knew that desire might sink into unproduc- 
tive wishes; that good tendencies might come short of 
their aim. This brief, but comprehensive hint — 7iot as 
though I had already attained— frequently recollected and 
acted upon, will serve to keep up in the mind, that we are 
capable of much higher things than we have yet achieved 
—and that, while we are dihgently ascending by each 
progressive step, we must still stretch forward our view to 
the culminating point. 

If, then, even the most conspicuous converts of St. Paul 
required to be confirmed by incessant admonition; if he 
did not think the most heroic Christians so established as 
to be arrived at their ultimate state ; if he did not think the 
most advanced so secure as to be trusted to go alone, so 
complete in themselves as to lose sight of their dependence; 
if they required to be exhorted to go on unto perfection; to 
be renewed from day to day; to stand fast; to quit themselves 
like men; to be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his 
might to stand agaiiist the wiles of the devil; and having done 
all, to stand — ""Let us not be high minded, but fear." If 
we'believe that the Spirit was poured out in more abundant 
measure in the incipient state, than on us in the more 
established position of the Church ; yet we see their supe- 
riority, in this respect, neither lessened the necessity of 
caution in the instructer, nor of diligence in the hearer. 



CHAP. XXI. 

On the superior advantages of the present period, for the 
attainment of knowledge, religion, and happiness. 

We have heard of a royal infidel, who was impious 
enough to declare, that had the Maker of the universe 
consulted him at the Creation, he could have given him 
hints for the improvement of his plan. Many, who do not 
go so far as to regret that their advice was not asked when 
the world was made, practically intimate that they could 
improve upon the scheme of Providence in carrying it on 



426 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

We have met with persons, who, not fully satisfied witn 
the evidences of Christianity, at least not quite firm in the 
practical adoption of its truths, have expressed a wish, that 
for the more complete confirmation of their faith, their lot 
had been cast in this, or in that particular age, in which 
they might have cleared up their doubts, and removed their 
difficulties. 

Now, though it is not permitted to indulge any wish con- 
trary to the appointment of him who fixes the bounds of our 
habitation, and ordains our whole lot in life; yet it should 
seem that we, in this age and country, have the most abun- 
dant reason, not only to be peculiarly grateful that it has 
fallen at this precise period. Who, that reflects at all will 
maintain, that any oera in the history of the world, whether 
antecedent or subsequent, to the institution of Christianity, 
could have afforded clearer lights or higher aids than the 
present? or would have conduced to make us wiser, better, 
or happier.'* Let us be assured, that if we do not see truth 
with sufficient distinctness, it is not our own position, nor 
that of the object, which is in fault, but the organ itself 

It is not to our present purpose to insist on the internal 
evidence of Christianity ; on that witness within — that con- 
viction of the Christian's own mind, arguing so strongly 
the truth of Revelation from its correspondence to his own 
wants — because this is an evidence equally accessible to 
the believer of every period. We shall, therefore, only 
offer a few observations on the superior advantages which 
we at present enjoy, as well from other causes, as from the 
fulness of the external evidence which has been undeniably 
established upon the profoundest knowledge and closest 
examination of the Sacred Records, by so many of our 
wisest and soundest divines. 

We have, for our assistance in religious knowledge, the 
collective wisdom of sacred antiquity ; and for our further- 
ance in piety, its precepts, its monitions, its examples. It 
is also the peculiar honor of our apostle, that from his life 
and writings alone, a new confirmation of the truth of the 
Gospel which he preached, has been recently and completely 
made out. In addition to the fullest general evidence of 
the authenticity of the New Testament, two of our own con- 
temporaries — men of different rank, habits, education, and 
turn of mind, — have extracted from the writings of St. Paul 
exclusively, particular and collateral evidence of a most in- 
teresting and important nature. We refer; in the first in- 
stance, to a small but valuable work of a noble author,* 

* Lord Littleton 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 427 

himself a convert of no common order, in which he lays 
down, and substantially proves the truth of his position, that 
the conversion and apostlesliip of St. Paul alone, duly consid- 
ered, is, of itself, a demonstration, sufficient to prove Christi- 
anity to be a Divine Revelation. Into these circumstances, 
which it is probable powerfully assisted his own convictions, 
he has with great diligence examined; and has with irresist- 
ible strength proposed them for the conviction of others. 

In the other instance, we refer to that exquisite work, 
the " Hora) Paulinse," of Doctor Paley; a work which ex- 
hibits a species of evidence as original as it is incontrover- 
tible. It is a corroboration of the truth of the New Testa- 
ment, derived from the incidental but close correspondence 
of numberless passages in the life and travels of St. Paul, 
related in the Acts, with his own repeated reference, in his 
epistles, to the same circumstances, persons, places, and 
events; together with their most correct geographical agree- 
ment; — the respective authors of both writings uniformly 
and consistently, though unintentionally, throwing light on 
each other. 

This interesting work, in a more especial manner, adds 
weight to facts which were already fully established, and 
strength to that " truth" which was before " barred up with 
ribs of iron=" We cannot too highly estimate this subsidi- 
ary evidence to the Christian revelation, derived as it were 
casually and incidentally from our apostle, from him to whom 
we were already unspeakably indebted for so much direct 
spiritual and practical instruction. It is a species of evi- 
dence so ingenious, yet so solid, so clear and so decisive, 
that the author must have carried his point in any court of 
judicature before which the cause might have been brought. 

If it were not the very genius of skepticism to shrink its 
"shrivelled essence" down to the minutest point, when it 
wishes to work itself an entrance where no visible opening 
seems previously to have been left, we should think, that, 
after the able defences of revelation which have been made 
on general grounds, the addition of these partial and sub- 
ordinate, but not less convincing, proofs, had not left even 
the smallest crevice through which unbelief could force, 
or even doubt insinuate its way. 

But to quit this more limited channel of conviction for 
the broad current of general Scripture, let us examine what 
period would have been more favorable, not only for the 
confirmation of our belief, but for our moral, our intellectual 
and spiritual improvement. Let us institute an inquiry, (if 
a few cursory and superficial remarks may be so called,) 



428 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

whether all those whose supposed superior opportunities of 
religious improvement we are disposed to envy, really pos- 
sessed more advantages than ourselves; and whether many 
among them were induced, in consequence of their peculiar 
situation to make the best use of those which they actually 
did possess. 

How very few of those who were not only countrymen, but 
contemporaries of our blessed Redeemer, believed in Him, 
or at least persevered in their behef ! Even of his immedi- 
ate disciples, even of his select friends, of the favored few 
who beheld the beautiful consistency of his daily life, who 
were more intimately privileged to hear the gracious words 
which proceeded from his lips: we pass by the son of per- 
dition: — one had not courage so much as to acknowledge 
that he knew him; another doubted his identity after his 
resurrection. In the moment of exquisite distress, Iheij all 
forsook him. His own " familiar friends," abandoned him, 
" and of the people there was none with him." 

Where then were the peculiar, the enviable advantages, 
of that situation, placed in which, the fervent Peter, who 
declared that though all men should forsake him, yet would 
not he; yet Peter forgot his oath, and forfeited his fidelity I 
Can we affirm, that we have stronger or more tender re- 
ligious attachments, than "the disciple whom Jesus loved?" 
Yet was he one of that all who forsook him. Are we sure 
that it is a superiority in our faith, rather than in our cir- 
cumstances, which makes us to differ from those affection- 
ate but troubled companions, who, after his crucifixion, 
sunk into the most hopeless despondency: — "We trusted 
that this should have been He who should have redeemed 
Israel." Cannot we, on the contrary, exultingly say, We 
hioiv that this was He who has redeemed, not Israel only, 
but every penitent believer, of every people, and kindred, 
and nation, to the end of the world. After the truth of our 
Lord's divine mission had been ratified by his resurrection 
from the dead, and the descent of the Holy Spirit, how 
many who heard the preaching, and beheld the miracles 
of his apostles, remained hardened in incredulity! In the 
ages immediately succeeding the promulgation of the Gos- 
pel, even while its verities were new, and the sense of its 
blessings fresh, many of its professors fell into gross errors; 
some tainted its purity by infusions of their own; others in- 
corporated with it the corruptions of Paganism. Many 
became heretics, some became apostates, not a few re- 
nounced Christianity, and more perhaps dishonored it. 

Does not St. Paul, after his incessant labors, even after 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 429 

his apparent success in one quarter of the globe, sorrow- 
fully exclaim to his friend, "Thou knowest that all they 
which are in Asia be turned away from me." He then 
proceeds to enumerate individuals, of whom, it may be pre- 
sumed, that he once entertained better hopes. While, 
therefore, we possess the works of this great apostle, and 
still many continue to receive so little benefit from them, 
let not any deceive themselves with the notion, that they 
would have derived infallible sanctification from his personal 
preaching; but let them remember, that all proconsular 
Asia,* who enjoyed that blessing, deserted both him and 
the Gospel. May not even the advantage, considered in 
some points of view, be reckoned on our side? If we may 
trust his own humble report of himself, "his letters," he 
says, "were allowed to be more weighty and powerful than 
his bodily presence," 

If so many were perverted, who had the privilege of 
standing the nearest to the fountain of hght, who even drank 
immediately from the living spring itself, shall we look for 
a more luminous exhibition or more privileged exercise, 
or more sincere "obedience" of Christian " faith," in the 
middle ages, when, in truth, religion was in a good meas- 
ure extinguished; when the Christian world had sunk into 
almost primaeval darkness; " when Christianity," to borrow 
the words of Melancthon, " was become a mere compound 
of philosophy and superstition;" when what religion did 
survive, was confined to a few, was immured in cloisters, 
was exhausted in quibbles, was wasted in unprofitable sub- 
tleties, was exhibited v/ith little speculative clearness, and 
less practical influence? 

Even when literature and religion awoke together from 
their long slumber, when Christianity was renovated and 
purified, the glorious beams of the reformation did not 
diffuse universal illumination. Even by better disposed, but 
partially enlightened minds, contention was too frequently 
mistaken for piety, and debate substituted for devotion. 

Of how different a spirit from these wrangling polemics 
was St. Paul! Though he repeatedly exhorts his friends, 
especially Timothy, in instructing his people, to watch par- 
ticularly "over their doctrine," the grand foundation on 
which all preaching must be built, yet he ever shows him- 
self an enemy to controversy, to frivolous disputes, and 
idle contention. He directs his converts, not to waste the 
time and strength, which should be reserved for great oc- 
casions, about words to no profit but subvertinp:; the hearers 

* 2Timotliv, ch. i. 



430 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

And, perhaps, there has seldom been less genuine pietj 
in the church than when intricate and theoretical points 
in theology have been most pertinaciously discussed. 
This is not " contending for the faith once delivered to the 
saints," but diverting the attention from faith, and alienat- 
ing the heart from charity. 

We do not mean to censure a spirit of inquiry, nor to 
repress earnestness, in the solution of difficulties. It is in- 
deed the very essence of an inquiring mind freely to start 
doubts, as it is of a learned and enlightened age rationally 
to solve them. On this point we are quite of the opinion 
of a good old divine, that "nothing is so certain as that 
which is certain after doubts." But compared even with 
the latter period of religious light and information, how far 
superior is our own.^ We who have the happiness to live 
in the present age, live, when truth has had time to force 
its way through all the obscurities which had been raised 
about it, to prevent its access to the understanding. If we 
rightly appreciate our advantages, we shall truly find that 
no country, in any age, was ever placed in a fairer position 
for improvement in wisdom, in piety, and happiness. A 
black cloud indeed, charged with sulphureous matter, for 
a long time was suspended over our heads; but, providen- 
tially directed, it passed on, and bursting, spread conflagra- 
tion over other lands. By the most exact retributive justice, 
those very countries in which the modern Titans first as- 
saulted Heaven, became the first scene of total desolation. 
In other places we have seen experiments tried, new in 
their nature, terrible in their progress, and worse than fruit- 
less in their results. We have seen a great nation endeav- 
oring to show the world that they could do without God. 
We have seen them exclude the Maker from his own crea- 
tion! and to complete the opposition between their own 
government, and his whom they gloried in dethroning, they 
used their impiously assumed power for the extermination 
of the species which he had created, for the destruction 
of the souls whom he had sent his Son to redeem. 

If, however, in our own age, and perhaps our own 
country, Christianity has not only been boldly opposed, 
i)ut audaciously vilified, it has been only so much the more 
seriously examined, so much the more vigorously defended. 
If its truth has been questioned by some, and denied by 
others, it has been only the more carefully sifted, the more 
satisfactorily cleared. The clouds in which sophistry had 
sought to envelope it, are dispersed; the charges which 
skepticism had brought against it, are repelled. The facts. 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 431 

arch-like, have been strengthened by being trampled upon. 
Infidelity has done its worst, and by the energy of its ef- 
forts, and the failure of its attempts, has shown how little 
it could do. Wit, and ingenuity, and argument, have con- 
tributed each its quota to confirm the truths which wit, 
and ingenuity, and argument, had undertaken to subvert. 
Talents on the wrong side have elicited superior talents on 
Ihe right, and the champions of the Gospel have beaten its 
assailants with their own weapons. Phyrrhonism has been 
beneficial, for by propagating its doubts it has caused 
them to be obviated. Even atheism itself has not been 
without its uses, for by obtruding its impieties, it has 
brought defeat on the objections, and abhorrence on their 
abettors. Thus the enemies of our faith have done ser- 
vice to our cause, for they have not advanced a single 
charge against it, which has not been followed by com- 
plete refutation; the shaking of the torch has caused it to 
diffuse a clearer and stronger light. 

Let us once more resume the comparison of our advan- 
tages, and the use we make of them, with the advantages 
and the conduct of these ancient servants of God, in con- 
sidering whom, perhaps, we mingle envy with our admira- 
tion. How fervently did these saints of the Old Testa- 
ment pant for that full blaze of light under which we live, 
and for which we are so little thankful! — " I have waited 
for thy salvation, O Lord!" was the heart-felt apostrophe 
of a devout patriarch. The aged saint who " waited for 
the consolation of Israel, and rapturously sung his JYunc 
dimittis,'^ — the ancient prophetess, who departed not from 
the temple, who desisted not from prayer day or night; — 
the father of the Baptist, who " blessed the Lord God of 
Israel that he had visited and redeemed his people;"* — 
how small were their advantages compared with ours. 
How weak is our faith, how freezing our gratitude com- 
pared with theirs !| They only beheld in their Saviour a 
feeble infant; — they had not heard, as we have heard, from 
the most undeniable authority, the perfections of his life, 
nor the miracles of his power, nor the works of his mercy, 
nor his triumph over death, nor his ascension into heaven, 
nor the descent of the Comforter. They had witnessed a 
large portion of the globe brought within the Christian pale 
by the preaching of that Gospel, the dawn of which so 
exhilarated their overflowing hearts. If full beatitude is 
promised to them who have not seen, and yet have be- 
lieved; what will be the state of tliose who virtually hart 
seen, and yet have not believed ? 

* Luke ch i t Luke ch. ii 



432 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

Had any patriarch, or saint, who was permitted only 
some rare and transient glimpses of the promised blessing, 
being allowed in prophetic vision to penetrate through the 
long vista of ages, which lay in remote futurity, before 
him — had he been asked whether, if his power concurred 
with his choice, in what age and in what nation he would 
have wished his lot assigned him — is it not more than pro- 
bable that he would have replied — in great Britain, in 

THE BEGINNING OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 

May we not venture to assert, that there are, at this 
moment, on the whole, more helps and fewer hinderances 
to the operation of Christian piety, than at any preceding 
period? May we not assert, that at no time has the genu- 
ine religion of the Gospel been more precisely defined, 
more completely stript of human inventions, more purified 
from philosophical infusions on one hand, and on the other 
more cleared from superstitious perversions, fanatical in- 
temperance, and debasing associations? That there still 
exist among us philosophists and fanatics, not a few, we 
are far from denying ; but neither is the distortion of faith 
in the one party, nor its subversion in the other, the pre- 
vailing character; good sense and right mindedness pre- 
dominate in our general views of Christianity. 

If it be objected that there is a very powerful aid want- 
ing to the confirmation of our faith, which the age of the 
apostles presented — that of miraculous gifts — the obvious 
answer is, that if they have ceased, it is because they 
have fully answered the end for which they were conferred: 
and is not the withdrawing of these extraordinary endow- 
ments more than compensated by the fulfilment of so 
many of the prophecies of the New Testament, and the 
anticipation of the near approach of others, yet unaccom- 
plished? In the meantime have we not the perpetual 
attestation of those living miracles, the unaltered state of 
the Jewish church, and the frequent internal renovation 
of the human heart? 

There is not a more striking feature in the character of 
the Royal Psalmist, than the fervent and reiterated ex- 
pressions of his love and admiration of the holy Scriptures. 
In what a variety of rapturous strains does he pour out 
the overflowings of his ardent soul! " Oh! how I love 
thy law! Thy word is a lamp to my feet — Oh teach me thy 
statutes! Thy words have I hid within my heart — open 
thou mine eyes, that I may see the wondrous things of thy 
law!" To give a full view of his affectionate effusions, 
would be to transcribe the larger portion of the Psalms 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 433 

To paraphrase his words, would be to dilute essential 
spirit 

Let us pause a moment, and while we admire this holy 
tervency, let us blush at our own ingratitude for advan- 
tages so superior: let us lament our own want of spiritual 
sensibility. Let us be humbled at the reflection, how very 
small was the portion of Scripture with which David was 
acquainted! How comparatively little did he know of that 
divine book, yet what holy transport was kindled by that 
little! He knew scarcely more than the Pentateuch, and 
one or two contemporary prophets. Then let us turn our 
eyes to the full revelation under which we live, and be 
grateful for the meridian splendor. 

Had David seen, as we see, the predictions of the late 
prophetical writers, those of Isaiah especially, to say no 
thing of his own, fulfilled — had he seen, as we have seen, 
their glorious accomplishment in the New Testament — - 
the incarnation and resurrection of Christ, the plenary gift 
of the Holy Spirit, the fulfilment of types, the substan- 
tiation of shadows, the solution of figures, the destruction 
of Jerusalem, the wide propagation of the everlasting 
Gospel, and that in far more tongues than were heard on 
the day of Pentecost, — had he seen a Bible in every cot- 
tage — a little seminary of Christian institution in every 
village — -had he beheld the firm establishment of the 
Christian church, no longer opposed, but supported by 
secular powers, after having conquered opposition by wea- 
pons purely spiritual — had he seen a standing ministry 
continued in a regular succession, from the age of the 
apostles to the present hour — had he seen, in addition to 
these domestic blessings, England emancipating Africa 
and evangelizing India, commerce spreading her sails to 
promote civilization, and Christianity elevating civilization 
and sanctifying commerce — had the royal saint witnessed 
this combination of mercies in one single country, what 
had his feelings been? 

He who so passionately exclaimed, "Oh how amiable 
are thy dwellings, thou Lord of Hosts! — my soul hath a 
desire and a longing to enter into the courts of the Lord — 
blessed are they that dwell in thine house — one day in thy 
courts is better than a thousand — one thing have I desired 
of the Lord, that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all 
the days of my life, to behold the fair beauty of the Lord, 
and to visit his temple " — this conqueror of the heathen, this 
denouncer of false gods, this chosen monarch of the chosen 
people, this fervent lover of the devotions of the sanctuary, 

19 



434 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

this hallowed poet of Sion, this noble contrib.itor to our 
public worship, this man after God's own heart, was not 
permitted to build one single church — we in this island 
only, possess ten thousand. 

But some may say, the apostles had supernatural supports, 
which are withheld from us. Their supports were doubtless 
proportioned to the fervency of their faith, and to the ex- 
traordinary emergencies on which they were called to act. 
But as we had occasion to remark in a former chapter, 
these assistances seem to have been reserved for occasions 
to which we are not called; and to be dispensed to them for 
others rather than for themselves. We do not find that they 
who could cure diseases, were exempted from suffering 
them; that they who could raise others from the dead, es- 
caped a violent death themselves. We do not find that the 
aids afforded them, were given to extinguish their natural 
feelings, to lighten their burdens, to rescue them from the 
vicissitudes of a painful life, from poverty or sorrows, from 
calumny or disgrace. Though St. Paul converted the jailor, 
he had nevertheless been his prisoner; though he had been 
the instrument of making " saints even in Caesar's house- 
hold," he Avas not delivered from perishing by Caesar's sword. 

It does not appear that in their ordinary transactions they 
had the assistance of more than the ordinary operations of 
the Spirit. These, blessed be Almighty Goodness! are 
not limited to prophets or apostles, but promised to all sin- 
cere believers, to the end of the world: communicated in a 
measure proportioned to their faith, and accommodated to 
their exigencies. The treasures of grace, unlike all other 
treasures, are not to be exhausted tjy using; but like the 
multiplication of loaves, more is left to be gathered up after 
the gift is used, than was imparted in the first instance. 



CHAP. XXII. 

Conclusion. — Cursonj inquiry into some of the causes which 
impeded general improvement. 

If we, in this favorite country, and at this favored period, 
are not as internally happy as we are outwardly prosperous ; 
if we do not reach that elevation in piety; if we do not 
exhibit that consistency of character, which, from the ad- 
vantages of our position, might be expected; if innumerable 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 



435 



providential distinction are conferred without being propor- 
tionally improved; if we are rejoicing for public !)lessings, 
without so profiting by them as to m.ake advancement in 
private virtue and personal religion; — should we not dili- 
gently inquire in what particulars our deficiencies chiefly 
consist, and what are the obstructions which especially 
impede our progress? 

That middle course which the luke-warm Christian takes, 
he takes partly because it seems to carry with it many present 
advantages, which the genuine Christian loses. This mea- 
sured conduct obtains for him that general popularity, the 
desire of which is his mainspring of action. He secures 
the friendship of worldly men, because he can accommo- 
date his taste to their conversation, and bend his views to 
their practices. As he is not profligate, the pious who are 
naturally candid, judge him favorably, and entertain hopes 
of his becoming all they wish; so that he unites the credit 
of their good opinion with the pleasure derived from the 
society of the others. A neutral character thus converts 
every thing to his own profit, avoids the suspicion attached 
to saints, and the disgrace inseparable from sinners. To 
disoblig^e the world, is, upon his principles, a price almost 
too high for the purchase of heaven itself. Is it not 
doubtful, whether he who accounts it so easy a matter to 
be a Christian, is a Christian in reality? To such an one, 
indeed, it is as easy as it is pleasant to reckon upon heaven* 
but can any, without faith and without patience, be follow- 
ers of them, who, "through faith and patience inherit the 
promises?" 

The truth is, mere men of the world do not conceive a 
very formidable opinion of the real evil of sin: they think 
slightly of it because it is so common; they even think 
almost favorably, at least they think charitably of it, when 
they see that even good men are not altogether exempt 
from it. From carelessness, or an erroneous kindness, 
they entertain a tender opinion of what they perceive to be 
a constant attendant on human nature: they plead, in its 
vindication, the mercy of God, the weakness of man, the 
power of temptation; and are apt to construe a strict judg- 
ment on the thing into an uncharitable harshness on the 
man. For this forbearance they expect to be paid in kind, 
to be paid with interest; for their very charity is usurious 
The least religious, however, often resent keenly those 
crimes which offend against society; of sins which affect 
their own interest, they are the most forward to seek legal 
redress. But they do not feel that some of the worst cor- 



436 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

ruptions are of a spiritual nature; and to those which only 
offend God, they never show themselves tenderly alive. 

But if they were brought to entertain just notions of the 
glorious majesty of God, they would soon learn to see how 
sin dishonors it; nor could an adequate view of his un- 
speakable holiness fail of leading them to a thorough hatred 
of every thing which is in direct opposition to it. If, how- 
ever, their own impure vision prevents them from perceiv- 
ing how deeply sin must offend the infinite purity of God, 
they might at least be awfully convinced of its malignant 
nature, by contemplating the wide and lasting ravages it 
has made among the human race. That can be no incon- 
siderable evil, which has been perpetuating itself, and en- 
tailing misery on its perpetrators for nearly six thousand 
years. 

Many are too much disposed to confound a confident 
feeling of security with religious peace. Conscience, whose 
suggestions were perhaps once clamorous, may, from long 
neglect, have become gradually less and less audible. The 
more obtuse the feelings grow, the less disturbance they 
give. This moral deadness assumes the name of tran- 
quillity, and, as Galgacus said of the Roman conquerors, 
in his noble speech on the Grampian hills, " when they 
have laid all waste, they call the desolation Peace." 

Is there not a growing appearance, that many are sub- 
stituting for the integrity of Christian doctrine, as taught in 
the Gospel, a religion compounded chiefly of the purer 
elements of Deism, amalgamated with some of the more 
popular attributes of Christianity! If the apostle, after all 
his high attainments, "was determined to know nothing 
but Jesus Christ, and him crucified," shall a deteriorated, 
or, as it is pleased to call itself, a liberal Christianity, lead 
its votaries to be satisfied with knowing every thing except 
him ; that is, to be satisfied without knowing him in such a 
manner, as at once to believe in him as a prophet, and to be 
ruled by him as a king; at once to obey him as a teacher, 
and trust in him as a Saviour.'' 

On the other hand, let us remember, that we may be 
correct in our creed, without possessing a living faith. We 
may be right in our opinions, without any cordial concur- 
rence of the heart, or any obedient subjugation of the will. 
We may be regular in the forms of devotion, and irregular 
in our passions. We may be temperate in what regards 
the animal appetites, and intemperate in the indulgence of 
evil tempers. We may be proud of our own orthodoxy, 
while we ridicule a serious spirit in another professor of 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 437 

the same opinions. We may maintain a customary habit 
of prayer, while we are destitute of that spirit, without 
which prayer is unavailable. May not some pray without 
invoking the mediation of the great Intercessor? May he 
not say to some now, as he said to his disciples, Hitherto ye 
have asked nothing in nuj name"? We do not mean so in- 
voking him, as to round the closing period with his name, 
but so regarding him, as to make him the general medium 
of our intercourse with Heaven. 

And is it not an increasing evil, that there seems to pre- 
vail among some, a habit, so to speak, of generalizing 
religion, of melting down the peculiar principles of Chris- 
tiamty, till its grand truths are blended in the fusion, and 
come out of the crucible without any distinctive character.^ 
A fundamental doctrine of our religion is, with many, 
grown not only into disuse, but discredit. But unless a 
man can seriously say, that his natural powers are fully 
effectual for his practical duties; that he is uniformly able 
of himself to pursue the right which he approves, and to 
avoid the wrong which he condemns, and to surmount the 
evil which he laments, and to resist the temptations which 
he feels, it should seem that he ought in reason to be deep- 
ly thankful for that divine aid which the Gospel promises, 
and on which St. Paul descants with such perpetual em- 
phasis; that he ought gladly to implore its communication 
by the means prescribed by this great apostle. 

If a man does not set up on his own strength; if he can- 
not live upon his own resources, if he finds that his good 
intentions are often frustrated, his firmest purposes for- 
gotten, his best resolutions broken; if he feels that he 
cannot change his own heart; if he believes that there is a 
real spiritual assistance oiTered, and that the communica- 
tion of this aid is promised to fervent prayer; it should seem 
to follow, as a necessary consequence, that this interior 
sentiment would lower his opinion of himself, change his 
notions of the Divine character, diminish his feeling of 
self-dependence, loosen his attachment to sense, make him 
more indifferent to human opinion, and more solicitous for 
the favor of God. This humbling, yet elevating inter- 
course with Heaven, would seem to convince him feelingly, 
that of himself he can do nothing; that human estimation 
can confer no intrinsic value, because it cannot make us 
what we are not; and that we are, in reality, only what we 
are in the sight of God. 

There is another cause which hurts the interests of reli- 
gion. Injurious names are reciprocally given to the most 

37* 



438 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

imperious duties; parties take different sides, and match 
them each against the other as if they were opposite inter- 
ests. But no power of ivords can alter the nature of things. 
Good works are not Popery ; nor is faith Methodism. Yet, 
is not a spiritual litigation vigorously carried on between 
two principles, both of which are of the very essence of 
the Gospel, and bound up therein in the most intimate and 
indissoluble union? Let us not reject a truth because it is 
misrepresented by those who do not understand it. We 
know that a learned bishop was condemned by an ignorant 
pope, for propagating no worse a heresy than that there 
were antipodes. 

Many, again, desire to be religious, but suffer the desire 
to die away without any effort to substantiate it; without 
any cordial adoption of the means which might produce the 
effect. Yet, with this inoperative desire, the languid 
Christian quiets conscience, and is satisfied with referring 
to this unproductive wish as an evidence of his sincerity. 
The effect is similar to that of a deceitful anodyne, which 
lulls pain without removing its cause. There are those 
who may be said to swallow religion as something which 
they are told it is their duty to take, in order to do them 
good. They therefore receive it in the lump, and then 
dismiss it from their thoughts as a thing done. It is no 
wonder if the success is proportioned to the measure. But 
would the apostle have so strenuously insisted on the ne- 
cessity of being ^^ renewed from day to day," if there were 
any dejiiiite day in which it could be affirmed that the work 
had been accomplished? And can any thing short of such 
accomplishment, justify us in desisting to press forward 
after it ? 

If, then, we would embrace Christianity as a life-giving 
principle, we must examine it analytically; we must resolve 
it into the several parts of which it is compounded, instead 
of considering it as a nostrum the effect of which is to be 
produced by our ignorance of the ingredients of which it is 
made up. To subscribe articles of faith, without knowing 
what consequences they involve — to be satisfied with hav- 
ing them propounded, without entering into the spirit of 
our obligation to obey them — to acknowledge their truth, 
without examining our own interest in them, is not only to 
be an imperfect, but an irrational Christian. 

While the political and moral improvement of the world 
around us seems, in many respects, to be simultaneously 
advancing, let not us, of this highly distinguished land, 
frustrate the grand objects which we have been the honored 



ESSAY OX ST. PAUL. 439 

instruments of establishing. Britain presents a spectacle, 
on which, if the world gazes with an admiring, it will gaze 
also with a scrutinizing eye. Those whom we have served 
and saved, will jealously inquire — for the obliged are not 
the least prying — Whether we live up to the high tone we 
assume? — Whether we obey the Gospel we extol.? — 
Whether we arc religious in person, or by proxy? — 
W^hether ail who disperse the Scriptures, read them.? — 
May not the critical observer be inclined to parody the 
interrogatories of our apostle to the censorious Jews.* 
Thou that sayest another should not swear, art thou guilty 
of profane levity ? Thou that sayest a man should keep 
the sixth and seventh commandments, dost thou shrink 
from duelling and libertinism? Thou, who boldest out a 
fair example in attending the solemnities of the Sunday 
morning's worship, dost thou attend likewise the unhallow- 
ed festivities of the evening? Thou that art valiant in the 
lield, art thou also "valiant for the truth?" Thou who, 
professing " pure religion and undefiled," visitest the fa- 
therless and widow with thy purse, dost thou keep thyself 
"unspotted from the world?" Let it be observed, that 
these are hypothetical questions, not rash accusations. 

The public munificence and private bounties of this age 
and country have outgone all example. An almost bound- 
less benevolence has annihilated all distinction of religion 
and of party, of country and of color No difTerence of opin- 
ion, no contrariety of feeling, has checked its astonishing 
operation, has chilled its ardent flame. No object is too 
vast for its grasp, none is too minute for its attention. The 
moral energies of the country have kept pace with the mili- 
tary and political. * Charity, too, has been intimately con- 
nected with religion; and we may hope, it is to the growth 
of the latter principle, that we are to ascribe the former 
practical effect. 

It remains with us to give substantial proof, that the 
right practice has flowed fiom the true principle. Let us 
never give occasion to the members of another church to 
infer, that even Protestants are not practically averse from 
the purchase of indulgences. Let us not give them the 
slightest cause for imputing to any of our acts of benefi- 
cence a spirit of commutation. Let them not see, that 
sobriety, purity, and self-control, are considered by many 
of us as minor statutes in the Christian code. 

Let it not be said, that personal holiness is laid asleep 
by the soothing blandishments of liberal profession; by the 
* Romans, xxi. 22. 



440 ESSAY OV ST. PATH,. 

misapplied tenderness of candid construction; by a tole 
tion which justifies the doing much which is not right i^ 
ourselves, because we make large allowances for whatever 
is wrong in others. To judge charitably, is a Christian 
precept; but religion no more permits us to judge falsely, 
than to act censurably. To the affluent it is cheaper, and 
to the inconsiderate it is easier, to relieve others, than 
to deny ourselves. Let them remember, however, that 
though to give liberally is nobly right; yet to act consist- 
ently is indispensably requisite, if we would make that 
which is in itself right acceptable to God; and let even the 
most benevolent never fail to reflect, that nothing can swell 
the tide of charity to its full flow, but self-denial. 

If some among us were to make their public bounties 
the measure of their domestic conduct, it would be setting 
up for themselves a high practical standard: yet it might 
be fair to make it so. Such liberal persons might do well 
to consider how far, in every subscription they pay, they 
do not give a sort of public pledge of their general practice; 
and how far, in order to be honest, they are not bound to 
redeem the deposit by their general correctness. Is it not 
a species of deceit to appear better than we are ? And do 
we not virtually practice this deceit when our self-govern- 
ment is obviously not of a piece with our liberality? 

Do we then undervalue charity.'' God forbid. Charity 
is a grace so peculiarly Christian, that it is said to have 
been practised in those countries only where Revelation 
has been enjoyed either by possession or tradition. Of the 
historians of ancient times, who have transmitted to us the 
fame of their military skill, their political glory, their litera- 
ry talents, their public spirit, or domestic virtues, none have 
made any mention of their charitable institutions; none 
have made any mention of a great nation receiving into its 
bosom, in the moment of imminent danger, of foreign war, 
and pressing domestic distress, myriads of exiles from the 
enemy's country; of their receiving and supporting thou- 
sands upon thousands of the priesthood of a religion so 
hostile to their own, as scarcely to allow them to believe 
that there was salvation for their benefactors. 

Benevolence is the most lovely associate of the other 
Christian virtues. We mistake only when we adopt her 
as their substitute. Excellence in this grand article is so 
far from procuring a dispensation from the other graces of 
piety, that she only raises the demand for their loftier ex- 
ercise. In the Christian race, however, the fleeter virtue 
must not slacken her speed, lest her competitors should be 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 



44 \ 



distanced. No ; the lagging attributes must quicken theirs. 
We trust that we have not, in any part of this httle work, 
attempted to degrade human reason. Is it degrading any 
quality or faculty, to assign to it its proper place, to ascribe 
to it its precise value? Reason and religion accord as 
completely in practice as in principle; and is it not a sub- 
ject of gratitude to God, that as there is nothing in Chris- 
tian belief, so there is nothing in Christian practice but 
what is consonant to views purely rational. Every disor- 
der, irregularity, and excess, which religion prohibits, is as 
contrary to our comfort, health, and happiness here, as it 
is fatal to our eternal interests; and should be equally avoid- 
ed on the ground of natural and spiritual judgment. Nay, 
if Christians are accused by the infidel of selfish motives, 
in obeying God for their own interest; is there not more 
absurdity in disobeying Him, when, by so doing, we forfeit 
every thing which a well-directed self-love would show to 
be our highest advantage, and which common sense, human 
prudence, worldly wisdom, would teach us to pursue. 

St. Paul combats all those partialities of judgment which 
arise from the understanding submitting itself to the will 
from conviction yielding to inclination. As it was the truth 
of the principle, the rectitude of the act, which determined 
his judcrment, so we read to him to little purpose, if the same 
qualitiel? do not also determine ours. But men submit to 
unexamined predilections; they do not allow themselves 
to be convinced of any thing with which they are not first 
pleased. Practical errors are rarely adopted from convic- 
tion, but almost always from inclination. 

Our apostle frequently includes 'Movers of their own- 
selves " in his catalogue of grievous offenders. He consid- 
ers selfishness as a state of mind inconsistent with Chris- 
tianity No other rehgion, indeed, had ever shown that 
it was sinful; no other had ever taught its followers to re- 
sist it; no other had furnished arms against it, had enabled 
its disciples to conquer it. Yet, may we not venture to 
assert, that among the prominent faults of this our age, is 
a growing selfishness. We mean not that sullen selfish- 
ness which used to display itself in penurious habits, in 
shabby parsimony, and a sordid frugality, which received 
part of its punishment in the self-inflicted seventies of its 
votary, and part in the discredit and contempt which attend- 
ed it. But we mean, that luxurious selfishness which has 
its own gratification in the vanity it indulges; and its own 
reward in the envy it secretly awakens, in the admiration 
it openly excites. 



442 ESSAY OiV ST. PAUL. 

The tide of an increasing dissipation, gorgeous, costly, 
and voluptuous beyond all precedent, has swept away the 
mounds and ramparts within which prudence in expense, 
and sobriety in manners, had heretofore confined it. 
Strano-e! that fashion and custom, and the example of 
others', are brought forward as a vindication by beings, who 
know they must be themselves individually responsible for 
the errors and the sins into which they are plunged by im- 
itation, as well as by original evil. JYumbers are pleaded, 
as a valid apology for being carried headlong down the 
torrent. But have we ever heard that the plague was 
thought a slighter distemper from the greatness of the num- 
bers infected? On the contrary, is not the extent of the 
ravage its most alarming symptom ? and is not the weekly 
diminution in the numbers publicly registered as the only 
signal of returning health? 

God has blessed the late unparalleled exertions of this 
country with a proportionate success. Honor and glory 
crown our land. But honor and glory are not primary 
stars ; they borrow their lustre from that immortal principal 
which is the fountain of all moral illumination. Let us 
bear in mind that to be prosperous without piety, or joyful 
without gratitude, or thankful without repentance, or peni- 
tent without amendment, is to forfeit the favor of Him from 
whom all prosperity is derived. We are told in the oracles 
of God, that the corruptions of an irreligious nation con- 
verted blessings into sins, when " pride and abundance of 
idleness" were the ungrateful returns for "fulness of 
bread." 

Thouo-h we no longer perceive that open alienation from 
God, so apparent in the commencement of the French rev- 
olution, yet do we perceive that return to Him which the 
restoration of our prosperity demands? Has the design of 
the Almighty, in visiting us with the calamities of a pro- 
tracted war been answered by a renunciation of the sins for 
which it was sent? Has his goodness, in putting a happy 
period to these calamities, been practically acknowledged? 
acknowledged, not merely by the public recognition of a 
wisely appointed day, but by a visible reformation of our 
habits and manners? 

We are now most imperatively called upon to give une- 
quivocal proof, that our devotion, in the late twenty years 
succession of national fasts, had some meaning in it, be- 
yond the bare compliance with authority, beyond the mere 
impulse of terror. Let it not be inferred, from any appa- 
rent slackness of principle, that ours was the prayer of na- 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 443 

ture for relief, more than of grace for pardon ; the cry for 
escape from danger, rather than for deliverance from sin. 

As God has abundantly granted us all the temporal bles- 
sings for which we then solicited, let us give full proof that 
our petitions were spiritual as well as political; as He, in 
pity, has withdrawn the anger of his chastisements, let us, 
in gratitude, take away the provocation, of our offences. 
He has long tried us with correction, he is now trying us 
with mercies. If, as we are told, when his judgments are 
abroad in the earth, we should learn righteousness, what 
should we not learn, wdiat should w^e not practice, when 
blessings are accumulated upon us — blessings, more multi- 
plied in their number, more ample in their extent, more 
valuable in their nature, more fraught wuth present advan- 
tages, more calculated for our eternal good, than ever were 
experienced by our ancestors in any period of our history? 

Let us not triumphantly compare ourselves with worse 
nations, unless we know what use they would have made 
of mercies which we have neglected; let us not glory in 
our superiority to countries who have had to plead a bad 
government, and a worse religion. To be better than those 
who are bad, is a low superiority now, and will not be ad- 
mitted as a reason for our acquittal hereafter. Corrupt 
Tyre, profligate Zidon, whose extinction the prophet Eze- 
kiel had predicted in the most portentous menaces, were 
pronounced by Infinite Compassion to be far less criminal 
than the instructed people to whom the pathetic admonition 
was addressed. If blindness and ignorance might be offer- 
ed as a plea for those heathen cities, what should extenuate 
the guilt of the enlightened regions of Galilee. 

It was on the most solemn of all occasions, that of a des- 
cription of the general resurrection, that St. Paul breaks in 
on his own awful discussion, to suggest the " corruption of 
manners " inseparable from " evil communications." Does 
it not give an alarming idea of his serious view of the sub- 
ject, that he should so intimately connect it with the im- 
mediate concerns of the eternal world.'* Can we safely 
separate a cause and a consequence which he has so indis- 
solubly joined.'' 

As the joy felt by the patriarchal family in the ark, 
when the bird of peace, with its symbol in her mouth, re- 
turned to this little remnant of an annihilated world; such, 
in its kind, was the joy experienced when the voice of the 
charmer was recently heard on our shores, and throughout 
an almost desolated quarter of the globe. But let not our 
own country forget that this peace so fervently desired, 



444 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

and so graciously accorded, may, by our neglecting to im 
prove the blessing, become more fatally and irretrievably 
injurious, than that state of hostility which we have so long 
and so justly deplored. Let us not forget, that shutting 
the gates of the temple of Janus, by opening those of 
Paris, may only have changed the nature, while it has de- 
teriorated the character, of the warfare. 

What incantation is there hi the name of peace, that 
could, as by the touch of a magician's wand, produce, at 
once, a total revolution in the character of a people, and in 
our opinion of them? What charm is there in a sound that 
could so transform a great nation, abandoned for a quarter 
of a century to boundless vice, and avowed infidelity, as to 
render familiar intercourse with them profitable, or their 
society even safe; which could instantaneously convert 
this scene of alarm, into a scene of irresistible attraction; 
could cause, at once, this land of terror to be desired as 
impatiently, and sought as impetuously, as if it had been 
the land of promise ? 

Will the borrowed glory, or rather the stolen renown, 
arising from pilfered pictures, or plundered statues; will 
the splendor of public buildings, buildings cemented with 
the blood of millions; will all the works of art, however 
exquisite, atone for the degradation of the human, and it 
may be almost said the extinction of the Christian charac- 
ter? Will marbles, and paintings, and edifices, expiate 
the utter contempt of morality, and all the other still lin- 
gering effects of the legal abolition of Christianity and the 
public disavowal of God ? Will the flower of England, the 
promising sons and blooming daughters of our nobles and 
our gentry reap a measure of improvement from these ex- 
hibitions of genius, which may be likely to compensate for 
the pernicious associations with which they may be accom- 
panied? 

Have we forgotten, that the mother of the fine arts, 
licentious Greece, injured Rome in her vital interests, 
her character, her honor, and her principles, more irre- 
trievably, than all her losses during her military conflict 
with them had done ? that this great people, the England 
of antiquity, never lost sight of her grandeur, never sacri- 
ficed her superiority, but when she stooped to imitate the 
vices, to adopt the manners, and to import the philosophy 
of the vanquished enemy; and, in short, that Greece am- 
ply revenged herself on her conqueror by a contact, which 
communicated an inextinguishable moral contagion? 

To revert to a remoter, and a higher source ; did not the 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 446 

chosen people of God suffer more essentially in their most 
important interests, by their familiar communications, after 
their conquest, with the polluted Canaanites, than in their 
long and perilous warfare with them.^ 

Let not these necessary inquiries be construed into 
language of vulgar prejudice, into the unchristian wish to 
perpetuate an unjustifiable aversion to a nation, because 
they have been our political enemies. We feel no desire, 
like the Carthagenian father, to entail our own hatred on 
our offspring, to make our posterity vow interminable 
hostility to a people, because their predecessors have suf- 
fered by them. We have no wish to persist in personal 
alienation from any country, especially from one which 
divine Providence has made our nearest neighbor. God 
forbid! But may we not venture, with all diffidence, to ask, 
should there not be a little space allowed them, after their 
deep pollution, to perform that quarantine, which even 
our ships are obliged to undergo, before we receive them 
on our own shores? May we not further ask, in the pre- 
sent instance, if by plunging into the infection on theirs, 
we do not fearfully aggravate the peril of the pestilence.'* 

In these observations we are conscious of wandering 
into illimitable topics — topics which may appear irrelevant 
to our general object. It is fit we should resume that ob- 
ject, and draw to a close. 

Let us observe, for our own imitation, that what St. 
Paul might be called to do, or to suffer, in the interme- 
diate stages to his final rest, he knew not, nor was he so- 
licitous to know. Of one thing he was assured, that a day 
was coming, when, whatever now appeared mysterious, 
would be made clear. While others only know him of 
whom they had heard, he knew him in whom he believed. 
He desired no other ground of confidence. All those supe- 
rior concerns, on which his heart was set, lay beyond 
the grave; lay in the hands of him to whom he had trusted 
all which he accounted valuable. The soul which he had 
committed to his Saviour, he knew that this Saviour " was 
able to preserve against that day." Swallowed up in the 
grandeur of the thought, he disregards the common forms 
of speech, and leaves it to his friend to supply what was 
rather understood than expressed — ivhat doij lie meant. 

If it is astonishing that any should disbelieve a religion, 
which has such unparalled attestations to its truth, as the 
religion which St. Paul preached, is it not far more aston- 
ishing that, professing not to have any doubt of its truth, 
any should continue to live as if they believed it to be false; 

19 



146 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

that any should live without habitual reference to thai day, 
to which his writings so repeatedly point, without laboring 
after a practical conviction of that paramount doctrine on 
which he so unweariedly descants, the benefits of the death 
of Christ? 

This doctrine our apostle has, beyond all other writers, 
irrefragably proved to be the only argument of real efficacy 
against our own fear of death. All the reasonings of phi- 
losophy, all the motives drawn from natural religion, all the 
self-complacent retrospection of our own virtues, afford no 
substantial support against it. This great doctrine, as the 
apostle also repeatedly proves, supplies the only principle 
which can set us above the sorrows of life. Mere morality 
often raises us above the grosser corruptions of sense, but 
it does not raise us above the entanglements of the world; 
it does not lift us above perplexing fears and anxious soli- 
citudes; it does not raise us above the agitations of desire; 
it does not rescue us from the doubts and harassings of an 
unsettled mind; it does not deliver us from the pangs of an 
awakened conscience. A mere moral taste may sustain 
character and support credit, but it does not produce pre- 
sent holiness, nor peace, nor a hope full of immortality. 
It neither communicates strength to obey, nor power to 
resist, nor a heart to love, nor a will to serve. 

Let us then study with holy Paul, that Gospel wherem 
the true secret of happiness, as well as the great mystery 
of godhness, is revealed. Our divine teacher does not say 
7'ead, but search the Scriptures. Its doctrines are of ever- 
lasting interest. All the great objects of history lose their 
value, as through the lapse of time they recede farther 
from us; but those of the book of God are commensurate 
with the immortality of our nature. All existing circum- 
stances, as they relate to this world merely, lose their im- 
portance as they lose their novelty; they even melt in air 
as they pass before us. 

While we are discussing events they cease to be ; while 
we are criticising customs they become obsolete ; while we 
are adopting fashions they vanish; while we are condemn- 
ing or defending parties, they change sides. While we are 
contemplating feuds, opposing factions, or deploring revo- 
lutions, they are extinct. Of created things, mutability is 
their character at the best, brevity their duration at the 
longest. But "the word of the Lord endureth forever." 
All that the heart craves, that word supplies. This state 
of things is all instability; the Gospel points " to a city 
which hath foundations." Here we have, beyond any other 



ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 447 

age or people, seen the kingdoms of this world transferred, 
depopulated, destroyed: //zere we are promised a kingdom 
which cannot be moved. 

With holy Paul then let us take the Bible for the sub- 
ject of our meditation, for the ground of our prayer, the 
rule of our conduct, the anchor of our hope, the standard 
of our faith. Let us seriously examine whether this taith 
is built on the same eternal basis with that of the apostle, 
whose character we have been contemplating, whether we 
are endeavoring to erect upon it a super-structure of prac- 
tical goodness worthy of the broad and sure foundation.'' 

Let us close our frequent reference to St. Paul as a 
pattern for general imitation, by repeating one question 
illustrative of those opposite qualities which ought to meet 
in every Christian. If the most zealous advocate of spirit- 
ual influences, were to select, from all the writers of sacred 
antiquity, the most distinguished champion of his great 
cause, on whom would he fix his choice? And if the most 
strenuous assertor of the duty of jjersonal activity in moral 
virtue were to choose from all mankind the man who most 
completely exemplified this character in himself, where 
must he search.^ Would not the two antagonists, when 
they meet in the field of controversy, each in defence of 
his favorite tenet, find that they had fixed on the same 
man, — Paul, the apostle of the Gentiles? If then we pro- 
pose him as our model, let us not rest till something of the 
same combination be formed in ourselves. 

To this end let us diligently study his epistles, in which 
the great doctrines of salvation are amply unfolded, and 
the mode of its attainment completely detailed. In con- 
templating the works of this great master of the human 
mind, we more than perceive, we feel their applicableness 
to all times, places, circumstances, and persons: and this, 
not only because the word of eternal life is always the 
same; but because the human heart, which that word re- 
veals to itself, is still the same also. Wc behold, as in a 
mirror, the fidelity, we had almost said the identity, of his 
representation, — face answering to face. We feel that we 
are personally interested in every feature he delineates. 
He lets us into the secrets of our own bosoms. He dis- 
closes to us the motives of our own conduct. He touches 
the true springs of right and wrong, lays bare the moral 
quality of actions, brings every object to the true point of 
comparison with each other, and all to the genuine slan- 
dard of the unerring Gospel. By him we are clearly 
taught that the same deed done from the desire of pleasing 



448 ESSAY ON ST. PAUL. 

God, or the desire of popular favor, becomes as different 
in the eye of religion, as any two actions in the eye of men. 

There we shall see also, that St. Paul evinced the sin- 
cerity of his eternal hopes by constantly preparing himself 
for their fruition. These hopes shaped his conduct, and 
moulded his spirit to a resemblance of the state he hoped 
for: and he best proved his belief that there really was such 
a state by laboring to acquire the dispositions which might 
qualify him for its enjoyment. Without this aim, without 
this effort, without this perseverance, his faith would have 
been fruitless, his hope delusive, his profession hypocrisy, 
and his " preaching vain." 

Let us image to ourselves the Saviour of the world, 
holding up professing Christians as a living exemplification 
of his religion; of that religion which he taught by his 
doctrines, and ratified by his blood. Let us represent him 
to our imagination as referring to the lives of his followers 
for the truth of his word. Do we not tremble at such a 
responsibility ? Do we not shrink from such a comparison .'* 
Are we not alarmed at the bare idea of bringing reproach 
on his Gospel, or dishonor on his name.'* 

Christians! why would you wait till you arrive at heaven, 
before you contribute to the great end of every dispensa- 
tion, — namely, that God may be glo7'iJied in his saints, and 
admired in all them that believe'? Even now, something of 
that assimilation should be taking place, which will be 
perfected when " we shall see Him as He is," and which 
will never take place if the resemblance begin not here. 
Beatification is only the finishing of the likeness. Intuition 
will only complete the transformation. 



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